


Moonshadows

by CultOfStrawberry



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 104,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CultOfStrawberry/pseuds/CultOfStrawberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two countries have been enemies of one another for centuries, carrying on a vicious cycle of hatred and prejudice. The Atyamai Empire finally conquers Corona, and the Coronan princess is taken as a prize by the conquering prince. However, things are not always what they seem, and Princess Sialen finds true freedom at the hands of her captor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note to A03 readers - Please note that this story is also mirrored over at FictionPress. Any formatting issues here at A03 is not my fault, their uploading process screws up all my formatting/italics/etc. I don't know why they can't have the same kind of upload as FP, but it is what it is. It is generally not a major issue here other than losing the emphasis for a few words or thoughts, but eh.

Moonshadows

I

o0o

Prince Kuoji stared at the vista that spread out before him, the white towers of the Palace of the Sun jutting up into the sky like an ivory dagger. Bleached from several centuries' worth of sunlit days, the pale stone was visible from miles around. To the people of the kingdom of Corona, the Palace was a testament of beauty and strength, and a symbol of the gods' blessings upon the land.  
A faint smirk appeared on his lips as he recalled his time spent within the Palace. Back then he'd been nothing more than a servant, the bastard son of a woman who'd been taken as a concubine by an Atyamai man before she'd managed to escape him while she was pregnant. He'd endured the scorn and prejudice of adults and children alike due to his obvious mixed heritage.  
It'd been nearly a decade since he'd last seen this place. However, he was no longer someone to be looked down at. When he set foot into the Palace, it would not be as a lowly half-breed servant. It would be as Prince of the Atyamai, son of the Emperor Imonje. He would relish the expression on King Helin's face when the old man saw who it was that had come to take his crown away from him.  
He turned his head, his dark green eyes fixing upon the woman next to him. With hair as dark as his own, and skin like alabaster, the similarity between the two could not be missed despite the fact that he was only half Atyamainese. It'd been remarked upon more than once in the Imperial Court how the two could have such similar facial expressions. She had a slight smile on her lips that mirrored his own.  
“How does it feel? Experiencing any nostalgia?” the woman asked, her eyes as dark as her hair as she regarded him. Like him, she was clad in armor of exquisite quality, lightweight compared to the traditional armor generally worn in Corona, yet no less efficient in its design, especially considering its wearer.  
“Perhaps a bit, Aunt. However, I can assure you, that is no impediment to our goal.”  
“I did not think it would be. However, I know there is a prize you seek. I will not impede you from it, but I must remind you that a long time has passed.” Her voice was gentle, yet carried an undertone of steel.  
He took a deep breath. Azami was right, and he was already aware of the possibilities. Things could, and usually did, change with the passing of years, and people certainly were no exception to the rule. He'd been aware of this truth for years, especially as his own person was evidence of just how much weight this maxim held. In his case, the changes had been positive. He could only hope that for the person he longed to see, the years had not eroded away the positive things he remembered.  
“We will see what happens. My commitment to our goal will remain the same regardless of what happens.”  
Azami's smile became warmer. “I only want to see you happy.”  
His response to that was a brief nod before he turned around to face the army that was massed before him and his aunt. Banners of white fluttered in the breeze, the black shape on them easily discernible as a hand with its palm facing the viewer, its fingers and thumb straight as if to signal 'stop'. The sigil was recognized across the empire of Atyamai, and even in Corona, where this dark hand stood for their greatest enemy. In reality, it was the crest of the rulers of Atyamai, the dark hand a literal and figurative symbol of their power.  
One of the generals approached the pair, bowing his head before looking up at them.  
“The men are in readiness, and those in the Palace are prepared for their part.”  
“Excellent,” Azami replied. “Let us tarry no longer, then.” She lightly dug her heels into the side of her russet-colored horse, and Kuoji did the same, setting his own ebony steed in a brisk trot.  
Seemingly as one, the army moved, the blacks and grays of the massed soldiers making it seem as if a shadow was moving across the verdant land.

o0o

Princess Sialen was silent as she stood in the shadows of the chapel as her mother and younger sister prayed to the Heavenly Father. Her gaze moved along the statue that stared down imperiously at the pair before it, the white marble sculpted into the figure of a bearded man seated upon a throne. The carved features were set in a slight frown, the stained glass window behind the statue strategically designed to illuminate him from behind so as to further the majestic aura the larger-than-life sculpture was meant to convey.  
The news of the Atyamai invasion had reached the Court nearly a month ago. It'd started with a breach of the border between the two kingdoms, with the army of the Dark Hand making inexorable progress inwards. Naturally, her father, King Helin, had ordered his army to stop the Dark Hand in its tracks. Reinforcements were quickly pulled in from the various provinces of Corona, marching to battle the invading army. To Helin's shock and rage, the Dark Hand prevailed every time, making progress towards the Capitol, capturing towns and cities along the way.  
The King had also sent for his allies, but only half of them responded to his aid, and even several powerful Houses had neglected to respond to the call of arms, at least right away. Nearly a week ago, the prosperous city of Helport, one of Corona's biggest and most well-defended strongholds, fell to the Dark Hand, and it was at this news that Sialen had the certainty that the Sol dynasty would come to an end.  
It wasn't as if she hadn't seen portents of this, however. She was an avid student of history, and read whatever she could get her hands on, regarding Corona or other kingdoms. Over the last few generations, the Sol kings had become increasingly arrogant and complacent, believing that the Heavenly Father gave them the right to rule over Corona and do as they pleased. She'd certainly heard enough times from her own father how their bloodline was blessed and that their centuries of rule would become millennia. Though often excluded from Courtly affairs due to her sex, she was intelligent enough to figure things out on her own from what she was able to see and hear. The few times she'd voiced her concerns to her father, she was joked at or dismissed outright.  
Only if I had been the ruler of this country, Sialen mused as the words of her mother and sister made their way to her ears. Then she would have sought an alliance with Atyamai, instead of antagonizing them like her father enjoyed doing.  
Her gaze moved down to the light pink fabric that covered her body, with blue and yellow flowers embroidered along the bodice and hem. She loathed wearing the color, and preferred dark, somber colors, but her mother had insisted that she wear this as it was viewed pleasing for a woman to wear colors seen as feminine. There were times when she would fight with Queen Selestia over clothing, but this time, she'd decided to not expend her energy over a matter that at this time, was trivial.  
Her mother's voice became louder as she beseeched the Heavenly Father for safety and prosperity, reminding the deity of the obeisance of the family, and their faithful observation to the sacred rites.  
There were several acerbic things that Sialen had to say to that, but she kept her lips pressed together. Her relationship with her mother was often fraught with conflict, but in such a dire time, she respected her mother's need for solace, even if she felt that this solace was better sought from a different source.  
“Your Majesties!” she heard the breathless voice of a servant call out, and her head snapped up to see the intruder to the royal chapel. The middle-aged woman, one of Selestia's handmaidens, was flustered, her considerable bosom heaving with the exertion of her harried journey up the stairs to the chamber. “The Dark Hand has breached the gates!”  
Queen Selestia was a pale woman, but Sialen could wear that her skin became at least a shade lighter. Her younger daughter, Stella, gave out a sudden cry as she grabbed her mother's sleeve.  
“Heavenly Father preserve us!”  
So far, Sialen had made no attempt to argue with her mother and sister, or intrude upon their prayers. However, at this, she was unable to rein in her frustration, and the words came tumbling out of her mouth almost before she realized she had said them.  
“If he cared at all, would he permit the Dark Hand to make its way to our very doorstep?” she demanded.  
“This is no time for blasphemy!” Selestia snapped at her older daughter.  
“It was a simple question, and one that I feel is very justified in this case,” Sialen replied coolly. Despite her icy demeanor, she felt her heart pounding. Since she was little, she, like any other resident of Corona, had been told often enough about how depraved the people of Atyamai were.  
Some of the things she'd heard were so lurid that she was sure they must be exaggerated, yet the people repeating such stories insisted that they must be true. After all, the Atyamai were ruled by the Dark Hand, and took pride in practicing black magic. Such a people could only have darkness in their depraved hearts. It was said that they ate babies, cats, dogs, that old men would take young boys to bed so that they could use their dark magic to drink the youth from the child to extend their own lifespan, that the vaginae of the women were sideways instead of front to back, and even that the penises of the men were so small that they had to find other ways to gain sexual satisfaction which included mutilating their lovers. And on the stories went. To become a prisoner of the Atyamai would be a fate worse than death.  
Sialen didn't doubt that she and her sister, and even their mother, who was still an attractive woman, would be valuable trophies for their conquerors.  
I will die before I allow myself to be dishonored, she promised herself. For most women, this meant that they would not have to live with the shame of living through degradation and the knowledge that others would know of their shame. In Corona, a woman who was raped, even if she had been unable to fight the man off, was still seen as shamed, and might as well have been branded for life. For Sialen, it wasn't about what other people would think of her, but about whatever pain and suffering that the conquerors would wish to inflict upon her.  
“Perhaps the Heavenly Father has lured the Atyamai to our doorstep so that he might strike them down in their greatest moment of pride!” Stella pointed out before Selestia could issue another rebuke.  
The older woman smiled at her youngest child with open approval, lightly touching Stella's cheek. The two looked almost identical but for age, both of them bearing the same golden-blond hair, bright blue eyes, and creamy skin. Next to them, Sialen looked washed out, her hair closer to silver than gold, and her eyes as pale as ice, lacking the warmth of a summer sky.  
“Of course, Stella! What else could it be but these depraved infidels being lured to their greatest downfall?”  
“You had better hope you are right, Stella,” Sialen said. It was the closest thing she would give to a concession to her sister's statement. Selestia looked at her and gave a rare nod of approval.  
Suddenly, the window behind the statue, as well as the smaller windows at either side of the room, went dark. Stella gave out a frightened shriek, and Sialen blinked in shock as she looked up at the window. There were several lamps in the chamber, so there was just enough illumination for its occupants to be able to see one another and navigate the considerable space. She rushed over to the door and looked down the hallway, seeing that the windows there were dark as well.  
She turned to see the other three women staring at her, and she slowly shook her head.  
“Oh!” Stella gave out a quiet sob.  
“Come, let us pray,” said the maidservant. “Surely the Heavenly Father seeks to test our faith before delivering us our salvation.”

o0o

Kuoji stood in the throne room, his arms crossed as he stared up at King Helin. The older man, his reddish-blond hair liberally streaked with gray, sat imperiously upon his throne, his knuckles white as they gripped the arms of the seat. His son, Prince Solan, stood at his side. Even now, in the face of overwhelming odds, Helin stubbornly remained where he was, fully believing that his god would save him.  
The nobles who had taken refuge in here with their King and Prince now cowered before the dark-clad men that surrounded them, lining up along the walls of the room and guarding the entrances, their swords at the ready. As one gifted in black magic, Kuoji's eyes were well-adjusted to the limited light that the lamps along the walls offered.  
There was movement, and the men parted from the main entrance to the throne room to admit Helin's wife and two daughters, flanked by more Atyamai soldiers. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the pink-clad figure, immediately recognizing the pale blonde hair and paler eyes of the Princess Sialen. As their eyes met, he registered confusion in her features as the men ushered the women past him, up to the dais where the throne sat.  
He raised his hand in a quick, subtle gesture, making a quick signal. Within a couple of moments, the shadows receded from the windows, casting the room in sunlight again. Many people blinked at the sudden intrusion of light, and he allowed several moments of silence.  
Helin was quick to take advantage of this silence.  
“See, the Heavenly Father has banished the darkness!” he stated triumphantly, rising from his throne, resplendent in his robes of gold and purple. He raised his arms, fingers spread out as if in a gesture of benediction.  
Kuoji remained standing with his arms crossed, staring at Helin with a deadpan expression, lifting his chin in a not-so-subtle expression of challenge. His gaze slid over to Sialen, their eyes meeting again. She raised her eyebrow, and he gave her a brief nod, seeing her eyes widen slightly in response.  
“Well?” Kuoji asked after several more moments, raising his hand in a gesture of impatience. “If you're up there, go ahead and strike me down for my insolence.”  
“Your moment will come!” Helin responded firmly, his arms still upraised.  
“I believe it already has.” With a wave of his hand, several tigers materialized out of the shadows in the corner of the room, prowling along the length of the chamber, causing the nobles to flinch back as they passed. The beasts seemed to toy with their captive audience, darting a few feet forward only to leap back, or opening their maws as if to bite. Their creator took several slow steps forward, pausing in the light cast from one of the tall windows, illuminating his dark hair and garb, and making his skin look almost white.  
The big cats approached the throne, causing the women to flinch back when one of the shadow-creatures took a step onto the dais. Suddenly, all four of the tigers disappeared, and the Queen slumped slightly against her younger daughter.  
Sialen looked at her father and shook her head. “Father, it is over. Please end this with dignity, if not for us, then at least for yourself,” she pleaded. The king regarded her with a disapproving glare before he turned his attention back to the conquering prince.  
“Any one of you who were secure in your faith, would rush forward and try to cut me down. Surely your god would protect you. Surely your… heavenly father would reward you for such courage.”  
Nobody said anything for a moment, before Prince Solan charged forward, unsheathing his sword and swinging it. The rubies on the hilt sparkled in the sunlight, and Kuoji saw a wince pass through Sialen's features as her hand fluttered up to her chest..  
“The gods act through your brother, Sialen. How little faith you have,” Helin remarked. Kuoji barely registered these words as he parried Solan's sword with his own, the lighter, thinner steel blade successfully deflecting Solan's blow. Four of his men came to his side at his signal, engaging Solan and quickly disarming the young man.  
Kuoji silently sheathed his sword as his men restrained Solan and dragged him off to one side. “Your god couldn't strike me down, did you really think your son stood a chance?” he asked Helin. “Now, even with that.. recent unpleasantness, I still offer you the chance to make a peaceful surrender. Let it not be said that I am not a fair person.”  
“… No.” Helin muttered, sitting back in his chair, like an obstinate child that refused to give up his favorite toy.  
“Have you gone deaf in your old age? Or lost the use of your legs? You're certainly taking your time getting out of our chair.”  
“Go to hell, you Atyamai filth. Darkness always perishes before light,” Helin countered stubbornly. “This throne has belonged to my family for centuries, and I'm not about to give it up to some shadow-filth.” Emboldened by their King, a few of the nobles whispered and jeered, their prejudice against the Atyamai superseding their good sense.  
“Lucas?” Selestia shrieked, finally recognizing him. “Is this how you repay my family's generosity, by coming here and trying to take our kingdom? Does Darkness know no end to perversion!” the woman huffed with indignation. Helin blinked and squinted his eyes, peering down at Kuoji before his lips set in a tight line. Still, Kuoji could see the struggle to comprehend, much less accept the reality before him. Finally, after several moments, the King leaned forward, jabbing a finger in Kuoji's direction.  
“You filthy half-breed! I should have put you and your mother to the sword when I had the chance!” he snarled. “That's what she deserves for lying with a slanty-eyes!”  
At this. Kuoji could hear angry hisses from several of his soldiers at the slur. Normally, Atyamai men were more reserved in showing their emotions, but in this case, very few could blame them for being so agitated at having their heritage and appearance so derided.  
“Perversion lies in zealotry and persecution. You've made your kingdom a realm of shrieking extremists, and fools too frightened to leave their homes once the sun has set. Don't project your people's failings onto me.” Kuoji spoke the words blandly. Helin's words were akin to being slapped in the face, but he would not give the old fool the satisfaction of rousing a reaction from him. He continued his lecture, taking several steps closer to the throne.  
“Your throne, like anything else, casts a shadow, old man. I could have used these shadows to form a noose around your neck, and strangled you right here and now. I am giving you the chance to move by your own power. My aunt will be here soon and when that time comes and you're still there, she will order your bloody, beaten carcass pulled from the chair and fed to the dogs.”  
Helin stared at Kuoji for several moments before looking around at his cowering nobles. Sialen raised her chin and moved closer to her father, the ice in her eyes visible to Kuoji. She spoke to her father in a low voice, though it was clear from its firmness that she meant for Kuoji to hear as well.  
“Father, get off the throne if you value your life, and for fuck's sake, listen to me, for once. There are no gods to protect you. The only choice you have now is whether you want to live or die.”  
Helin stared at his daughter, and Kuoji was certain that in any other instance, the young woman would have been rewarded with at least a slap for her insolence.  
Grudgingly, at the slowest pace possible, the King of Corona slid from the throne, almost oozing out of it. “You will pay for this yet,” he promised as he looked down at his adversary. “The gods work in mysterious ways.”  
At seeing her husband slide from the throne, Selestia started sobbing, making it clear that she understood the finality of the gesture.  
“The argument employed when you realize gods hold no answer. Such petulance is unbecoming even in a former king.”  
He turned to one of his men and spoke to him in their native tongue.  
“Is my aunt still occupied?” he asked.  
“I believe so, but she should be done with them soon.”  
“Go see her. Tell her that her throne awaits.”  
“As you wish.” The man bowed and took his leave. Azami had chosen to stay behind in the keep of the castle, where she could interrogate the captain of the palace guard, along with other people that were important to the castle, such as the majordomo. This was not without reason – Azami was known in the Imperial Court as a skilled interrogator. Any information she would glean from her captives would be beneficial for both herself and her nephew, as well as their men.  
Several more men came to secure Helin, and he also signaled for them to take Selestia and Stella into custody. The former Queen glared at him as she was led off the dais, and he simply stared back at her impassively before turning his attention back to the Princess.  
A hint of a smile appeared on his face as he approached the dais, taking one step onto it and resting his elbow on his knee as he studied her. Her hands were folded together at her stomach, and she stared back at him silently.  
“You certainly seem to have maintained your practicality… I am grateful that growing up in this place did not rob you of your good sense. Gods and monsters...” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “In Atyamai, such things are found in kid's stories... and even those children know fiction when they hear it.”  
At that, she gave him the barest of smiles. “So it really is you.” Her expression became somber, and he didn't doubt that she wondered what was to become of her. “Corona is now yours, what do you intend to do with it?”  
The unspoken question was, what do you intend to do with me? She stared at him with eyes that reminded him of a winter sky. Before he could answer, he heard sharp footsteps, and turned to see his aunt, her chin raised as she strode down the red carpet that led to the dais. She paused in front of it, placing her hands on her hips as she studied the throne.  
It was a heavy thing of gold, made with a solar and celestial motif, the back of it extending in long spikes that were mounted with diamond, amber, and topaz.  
“Hmm, it's gaudy for my tastes, but for the moment, it will do.” She climbed the steps and sat down in it, her small, shapely behind sinking into the cushion. “A bit too soft, but then the Sol dynasty has gone soft.” she shrugged.  
“A woman must never sit ion the throne!” Helin hissed, surrounded by guards. “It is an affront to the gods and the dynasty!" Unlike Atyamai, Corona treated its women like second-class citizens, something that Kuoji remembered very well from his tenure here.  
“Our victory here should show you that a woman can lead as well as any man,” Kuoji offered, glaring over his shoulder at Helin. "If you raise your voice to my aunt again, your skull will adorn that throne by day's end.” For a moment, genuine anger entered his voice. However, when he turned back to his old friend, his smile returned.  
“My aunt has taken her prize. And I have mine.” His eyes met hers again. Reaching out, he touched a hand to her cheek, brushing it softly with his thumb. He dropped his voice, intending his next words for her ears only. “Do not fear me. I would never hurt an old friend.”  
She blinked once before regarding him with a brief nod. Though his words were inaudible to others, his gesture was visible, and at that, Helin hissed at his wife. “That half-breed bastard thinks he can touch a woman of Sol! May the gods make his manhood wither and fall off”  
“A worthy prize you have claimed, nephew. Not only is she beautiful, but the magic in her is strong. I can sense it. She will be a valuable addition to the Dark Hand.” Azami's tone was casually deliberate, designed to infuriate Helin. But then, it was one of the things that made her such a skilled interrogator.  
Kuoji slowly turned to the fallen king. “For a pauper in lordly robes, your arrogance is profound.” His gaze moved to the guards holding the royal family. “If he speaks out of turn again, beat him. He is in my aunt's palace. Here, one affords their hosts proper respect.”  
Azami gave her nephew an approving nod before turning her attention to the captive nobles.  
“You will be given the opportunity to pledge allegiance to the Atyamai, and the Tekuras, who are now your new rulers. We are firm, and will not hesitate to discipline anyone who steps out of line, but we are also fair, which is more than could ever be said for the former Kings of Sol. You have a choice; kneel before me and Kuoji, or kneel at the executioner's block.”  
Some of the nobles stared. Azami was the kind of woman that a typical Coronan man would fear – beautiful, strong, and intelligent. It was a terrifying thought – a woman who could rival, and exceed them, dispelling their long-held notions that women were of the weaker sex. “I would prefer the former, but I am not afraid to administer the latter, if need be.” Her voice was as hard as steel, and a man stepped forward, garbed in black.  
His face showed an odd mixture of solemnity and dourness set in broad features which were emphasized by the fact that his hair was pulled back in a tight, thick topknot. His build was tall and strong, and strapped to his back was a sword nearly as tall as he. His thick build was deceptive, as he was one of the fastest swordsmen Kuoji had ever met, and in fact, this man had been one of his teachers.  
“Me or him, choose,” Azami challenged with a wave of her hand.  
With great reluctance, one of the nobles, a portly old man, approached the dais and with some effort, dropped to one knee before swearing fealty. Several others followed his lead, understanding that their defeat was complete and that there was not much other choice.  
Any time a man made his way past Helin, he would hiss at them that they were traitors. Two of his guards started to beat his sides with their sheathed swords. Kuoji averted his eyes, ignoring the punishment as he would look away from a parent admonishing their misbehaved child in public.  
One younger nobleman strode forward, his chin held high. However, he did not kneel and instead looked Azami right in the eye.  
“You bitch whore. You are a piece of meat not even fit for the dogs to play with, and-” Before he could finish his sentence, his head was rolling along the ground as blood spurted from the space where it had once sat. Sialen flinched a bit, but she kept her chin raised and her hands folded, maintaining her pride and dignity. Kuoji gave her a brief, approving nod.  
“Is there anyone here who is related to this man?” Azami demanded, pointing to the headless body that lay on the floor, twitching a couple of times before it fell still. Several pairs of eyes moved to a young woman who bore a strong resemblance to the recently deceased man.  
“Who are you?” Azami asked in a voice that was several degrees kinder than before.  
“I am… was… his sister.”  
“Well, now you are the head of your family.”  
The woman became flustered, blinking several times. “But, my father...”  
“But nothing,” Azami replied, her voice still kind, but taking on a firm edge. “In Atyamai, women can be the head of their families, and since this land is now part of Atyamai, the laws of the Tekura apply here.”  
The woman blinked again before stepping forward, delicately stepping over her brother to kneel before her new ruler.  
There were not many women here, most of them wives or daughters of a nobleman. Some of them seemed utterly shocked at the idea of a woman taking leadership, but Kuoji could see the wheels turning in the minds of a few of them as they stared at Azami or the newly-appointed family leader.  
After that, more of the nobles were quicker to fall in line, though some did so with obvious reluctance. Only a couple more lost their heads. Whenever an execution was called for, Azami chose to not have the bodies cleared away, choosing to leave them where they were as an example for the remaining nobles.  
Only when all of the nobles had been given their choice did Azami decide that the proceedings were over for the time being.  
“You are free to go. However, keep in mind that the army of the Dark Hand was able to easily conquer the soldiers of Corona, and for more reasons than one. Any attempts at rebellion will be met with swift reprisal, as you have just seen,” Azami stated.  
Kuoji smirked to himself at that as he studied the room. Corona had not been conquered from just the outside – there had been people on the inside who wearied of the Sol dynasty and the arrogance and selfishness of its rulers. The invasion had been planned for several decades, and this patience and care came with ample reward.  
“It has been a long day, and I think we are more than ready for a victory feast, hmm?” Azami asked her nephew, though she spoke loudly enough for others to be able to hear as well.  
“I don't doubt that every one of our men feels the same way.” He glanced towards the soldiers, beckoning one forward. Turning back to the Princess, he looked down at her. “I want you at my side at the banquet. Please make the appropriate preparations...” He glanced at her dress, did she hate pink today as much as she did back then? “And dress in the colors that please you.” He gestured to the soldier that had just joined them. “This is Sana. She will be your companion for the time being. Her command of the language is good, but she has not quite mastered it, so we ask for your patience. She can also act as your translator, and teach you some Atyamai as well.”  
He almost chuckled at Sialen's surprise when she realized that the soldier was in fact a woman. Sana was garbed as any other soldier, the armor de-emphasizing the womanly curves she had, and her hair was puled in the same topknot that her male peers had.  
“Very well, then.” Sialen said, her eyes darting between the two of them. It was obvious that she was still processing the situation. There was much he wanted to say to the Princess, but it was not yet time. He regarded her with a polite bow. “I will see you in a few hours, then.”  
“… Yes.” She bowed her head slightly. It was not done to quite the proper degree, but then she was unfamiliar with Atyamai customs. There would be time to teach her later. She walked off the dais, Sana trailing behind her. The men parted from a side entrance to allow her to leave.  
“Well. That went better than I thought it might,” Azami commented.  
“Of which do you speak about – the invasion or the princess?”  
“How about both?” she asked with a small smile.  
He replied with a small snort. “I have no complaints.”  
“Neither do I. Well, besides that the cushion here is too soft,” Azami said, wiggling around on the seat.

o0o

I hope you enjoyed this introduction to my new story. I wanted to put a new twist on the old trope of the 'captured princess/maiden'. It's a popular one, and one I've read several times, but there's always been something about how it's usually presented that came across to me as repetitive. So I am working hard to make this story unique and enjoyable, and with a main male and female lead that come across as likeable, either by themselves or together despite the fact that they come from opposing sides and so on.  
Reviews and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Kuoji finds his conquest to be more enjoyable than he had hoped for

Moonshadows

II

o0o

Sialen's progress to her room was steady if a bit slow, like she was drifting through a haze. She'd been prepared to die by her own hand, but not before taking down at least a few people with her. Untrained in her magic as she was for just that purpose, Sialen had managed to teach herself a few things through observation of others as well as reading what she could get her hands on.  
She came to the door of her apartments, and paused before it for a moment before she pushed it open, entering the parlor. The silence greeted her, but at the moment, she found it comforting, and went over to the divan to sit down, not realizing until then just how light-headed she felt.  
“Are you well?” she heard Sana ask. She looked up, having almost forgotten that the woman had followed her into the room. She looked at the other woman for several moments before giving a brief nod. Generally a taciturn person, especially with the kind of family she had, Sialen was not a person accustomed to talking about her emotions.  
She sat for a while, staring out the window, occasionally drumming her finger on the arm of the divan or fiddling with the sleeve of her dress. She'd heard so many bad things about the Atyamai, but she would have never imagined that their prince was someone she'd known from her past. How had Lucas become a prince? There were so many things she wanted to ask him! He was absolutely the last person she had expected to see on such an occasion like this.  
Finally, she rose from her seat and went to her armoire. Lucas – or Kuoji – had told her to dress in preferred colors. Well, that was a request she was happy to obey. Digging through her clothing and ignoring the ones that her mother had chosen for her, she found an old black dress, hoping it still fit. It was velvet, and had been worn for a funeral and mourning several years ago. It was designed to be worn over a black or dark gray under-dress, but Sialen chose a blue one instead, the cheery color showing through the collar and sleeves along with the slits at either side of the skirt. The velvet was a bit tight around her chest, but it was loose enough otherwise to be modest and comfortable on top of the light blue silk.  
Black and dark gray were colors that were deemed fit only in association with death, for it was said in Corona that once one died, the light of their life was extinguished, and that of their close ones. While not necessarily a color of ill-omen, it was generally frowned upon to prefer darker and more drab colors when one wasn't in mourning. Sialen disagreed with that, as she found black and other dark colors to be elegant in their own way.  
Without her handmaidens, Sialen was on her own when it came to doing her hair, but she managed reasonably well, using several silver pins and small braids to pull her hair back. Diamonds hung from her ears and around her neck, and she looked in the mirror, approving of the stern, regal beauty in the reflection. She'd never cared much for the pastel colors that were generally preferred for her sex, or fripperies such as lace or ribbons, and her wardrobe certainly had plenty of that.  
She took a deep breath as she studied her image. For someone whose life had basically been turned upside-down within a day, she was handling it more calmly than most others would. She'd been informed that she would be leaving the place where she'd spent her childhood and life in, to go to parts unknown, where she would have to learn a new language and immerse herself in a foreign culture. She had been given no choice in this matter.  
Was she nervous? How could she not be? There were so many things to worry about. How would she be viewed in Atyamai, especially as the princess of the country that had been their antagonist for so long?  
It felt odd to contemplate a future when less than a day ago, she'd been prepared to die fighting. And then there was Lucas, of course. She still couldn't believe he was a Prince of Atyamai. What stroke of luck had brought him to that position? Had he been adopted by the Dark Hand? Regardless of the circumstances that brought a lowly mixed-race Coronan boy to such an exalted position, was he the same person she had once known? Could she actually trust him?  
Slowly, she turned to Sana, who had been standing near a corner and staring off thoughtfully. The dark-haired woman focused on her once she found herself the object of scrutiny.  
“Yes?” Sana asked.  
“Do Atyamainese wear a lot of black?” Sialen asked, recalling what she'd seen of them so far.  
“Some do.”  
“So it's not… a special color?”  
“Special?” It was a word that Sana did not seem to quite comprehend.  
“Special… like something you save for occasions. In Corona, black is only worn as a color for mourning.”  
“Oh. No. Black is not… special.” Sana fixed her gaze upon the Princess' attire. “Are you mourning?”  
“No. I've always liked black and dark colors, but in Coronan society, it's not generally approved. I was curious if it was the same in Atyamai.”  
“Oh...” Sana regarded her with a slow nod. “Sometimes a color is special. For festivals, mourning, rituals... But you may still wear that color at any other time with other colors.”  
“Would this be appropriate in Atyamai?”  
“Yes.” Sialen did not detect any mischief in Sana's eyes or voice.  
“Good.” She turned back to the mirror, staring at her reflection one last time. Let it not be said that she met her fate in an undignified way.  
“Come,” she heard Sana say. Sialen squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. She might no longer be a princess since the kingdom of Corona now no longer officially existed, but she still had her dignity. And a friend in a very high place, she mused, thinking of the Prince again. He'd looked rather handsome in his armor, and he'd grown into a fine specimen of a male, with broad shoulders and a confident grace.  
Kuoji was standing just outside of the entrance to the banquet hall, and she found herself momentarily riveted by the sight of him. He'd changed out of his armor, and was now clad in a black robe that had gold threading along the sleeves and hem. The symbol of the Dark Hand was emblazoned in an outline of gold against the left side of his robe. Under that, she could see a white undershirt, peeking from the collar. The robe terminated just below his knees, revealing a pair of well-fitting black leather boots and loose-fitting dark green pants. At his side hung his sword.  
His hair, which had previously been restrained to a topknot, now hung loose, stopping several inches below his shoulders.  
“You look even lovelier than I last saw you, Sialen,” Kuoji whispered as she approached him. She curtsied to him, as was proper etiquette, at least in Coronan society.  
He beckoned to her. “Come, let us talk.” She followed him to the balcony that lined most of one side of the banquet hall, and Sana did not follow them. The sun hung low near the horizon, casting everything with a sharp, long shadow. In the courtyard, she could see servants milling about under the watchful eye of Atyamainese soldiers.  
He was silent, so she decided to take the initiative. “Lucas… Kuoji… how is it that you are a Prince? I must admit that I am having difficulty wrapping my head around this.”  
“Would you believe me if I said that I am the son of Emperor Imonje?”  
“In different circumstances, I might think you were jesting. But...” She shook her head. “How?” she asked again.  
“Back then, I did not know this… but the man my mother had been concubine to, was the Emperor. Only he had been a prince back then. They were on a ship when several Corona vessels attacked. My father barely escaped with his life, and believed my mother dead after a long search. My mother managed her way to shore, believing herself to be the sole survivor of the attack. She discovered that she was pregnant, and made her way to Golden Lake.  
“Where we met,” Sialen recalled.  
“Yes. She managed to support herself by doing tailoring and embroidering, as you remember. Then we joined your household. There were spies in the Palace, and when we returned with your family, my presence did not go unnoticed. Eventually my father learned of me and my mother. He realized that she was the one he'd lost so long ago. The reason we disappeared was that he'd commanded his agents to bring us to him.”  
“So that's why... It must have been such a surprise.”  
“To say the least,” Kuoji replied with a small chuckle. “Although I can't imagine that my surprise was greater than yours, earlier today.”  
She managed a small smile. “So the Empress...”  
He nodded. “The very same woman, only she was given a different name, just as I was.”  
She took a deep breath. “What is to become of me and my family?”  
He leaned against the parapet that lined the balcony, staring at her for several moments. “Your family will be taken to the Islands and kept prisoner there.”  
She closed her eyes for a moment. There was once a time where the Atyamai was nothing more than a collection of islands off the northeastern part of the continent. Over the centuries, through conquest and alliance, their empire now had a firm foothold on the continent itself, multiplying their original landholdings several times in the process. Keeping prisoners on one of the islands was a rather efficient way to keep them in custody, no doubt.  
“As for you...” she heard him continue. “Officially, you are a prisoner, as well.”  
She opened her eyes.  
“However, I have no desire to treat you as such. I think you would fare well as a citizen of Atyamai, at least after you assimilate at least some of the customs and language.”  
She let out a slow breath. “I am grateful for your kindness,” she finally said after several moments. She looked down at the floor for several moments before returning her attention back to him. “Is this what you had planned since you became a prince? Was it always your intent to capture me?”  
A smirk tugged at his lips. “The conquest of Corona is something that had been in preparation for several decades, even before my father became Emperor. Your ancestors sealed the fate of their bloodline generations ago, but I will say that I missed you dreadfully, Sialen. My first night in my father's palace, after learning about who I really was and what kind of future awaited me… I promised myself that I would see you again.”  
“Only our roles are now reversed. You are the child of a king, and I am… no longer a princess.”  
“The Sol dynasty may be at its end, but this does not make you any less of a person, Sialen. Opportunities await you. Back then, you helped me and my mother and were our friend despite what others thought of us. Consider that favor returned.”  
“Thank you.” There were parables in Coronan folklore about kindness being its own reward, and the gods rewarding humans for such. If these gods really did exist, it appeared that such parables had some truth to them.  
“Hello, Aunt,” she heard Kuoji utter, and turned to see Corona's new ruler stand in one of the portals that divided the banquet hall from the balcony. She had been an impressive sight in her armor, but her current attire maintained the austere regality she'd exuded before. Like her nephew, most of her outfit was black, though hers had gold and green thread along the hems. Her under-robe was a rich emerald-green, and terminated at her ankles instead of below her knees.  
Her hair was pulled back with several gold pins that kept the locks away from her face so that they could flow freely down her back. Her face was smooth and pale, with finely-arched eyebrows.  
Sialen hesitated before doing a polite curtsey.  
“We do not curtsey in Atyamai. We bow.” However, Azami's voice was not scolding, and merely carried a mater-of-fact tone. “The degree of the bow is determined by the difference in ranks between the people involved.”  
“There will be time for her to learn that, Aunt,” Kuoji said.  
“It's never too early for someone to learn anything,” Azami replied with a slight lift of her chin. Sialen found herself caught between the two, unsure of which side she should choose – not that she wanted to choose in the first place. Deciding to take the safest course of action, she looked down at the floor, her hands folded nearly in front of her.  
“See, she has already learned something,” Azami pointed out, and Sialen felt her cheeks pinken. In Coronan culture, a grown man was was subordinate to no woman. Had Mother spoken to Father in the same manner as Azami had just spoken to her nephew, she could have expected, at the very least, a stern reminder of a woman's place.  
Kuoji cleared his throat before he spoke. “I have had a discussion with Sialen.”  
“I take it that it was a satisfactory one.”  
“Indeed.”  
Sialen looked up to see Azami give her nephew a meaningful look. Suddenly, Azami turned her attention to the younger woman. “I expect that you will not attempt to cause any trouble now, or in the future.” This was stated in a calm yet blunt manner, and Sialen didn't doubt that Azami would act upon any threat, whether real or perceived.  
“If I may be frank...”  
“I expect nothing less.” Azami's tone was now imperious.  
“I have known for a while that Corona would eventually come to an end. My father was – and still is, I am sure – arrogant and confident in the divine right that he perceives is due to his bloodline. Over the last few weeks, as the Dark Hand drew nearer to us, I was more and more certain that I would see the end of the kingdom with my own eyes. I was quite prepared to fight – not for the kingdom or family, but for myself. I am sure you are aware of how most Coronans perceive the Atyamainese.”  
Kuoji stared at her silently, stroking his chin. Azami shared his silence, studying her through narrowed eyes, waiting for her to continue.  
“In the past, conquest has often meant violence against innocent parties. Women in such a position as I am usually end up as a valuable spoil of war for the victor. I was prepared to ensure that did not happen to me. I was quite willing to kill anyone who would… try to… you know, even if that meant my own demise. However, as the victors in this case have been… gracious, I am aware that it would be foolish to give them a reason to not be so gracious.”  
Azami pursed her lips for several moments, loosely crossing her arms.  
“… Are you sure you're Helin's daughter?” she asked.  
Sialen's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pardon?”  
Kuoji let out a soft chuckle. “Azami meant that as a compliment. What she means is that you are as wise as your father is foolish.”  
“… Oh.” Sialen let out a weak chuckle. “Thank you?”  
Azami gave a brief nod before turning away from them and going back inside.

o0o

Kuoji had to admit, he was nervous about the first personal encounter between Azami and Sialen, but all things considered, things had gone very well. He couldn't help but feel a bit proud of Sialen for her response to Azami's warning against trouble-making.  
“I suppose then, that it's a good thing that it was me who claimed you, instead of some other prince?” Kuoji asked lightly.  
“Yes. Consider yourself fortunate.”  
“Believe me, I do.” He offered her his arm, and led her back inside.  
Anything that bore the crest of the Sol family had been removed, to be replaced by the Dark Hand, the sigil of the Tekura ubiquitous along the walls of the Palace, though considerably understated compared to the oft-gaudy and elaborate banners that depicted the sun, the symbol of House Sol. Behind the table reserved for the royal family, the black hand loomed, appearing as if it would reach out and grab whoever sat n the lord's chair.  
Already, many were seated, and more entered the hall with each passing minute, filling the tables that were arranged through the chamber in orderly rows. Most were Atyamainese, of course, but several Coronans, those who served as spies and allies to the Tekura, were among these numbers.  
He scanned the room as he led Sialen to the table at the end of the room, where Azami already sat in the chair that was normally reserved for the King. He sat at Azami's right, with Sialen at his other side. At Azami's other side sat one of their cousins, a high-ranking general in the army, and another man, who while not an actual soldier due to his disability, was nonetheless a respected bannerman to the Tekura. Sana came to sit near Sialen, and a couple more trusted men joined them with several minutes.  
There was a brief commotion as Helin and his family were led into the banquet hall. The former king of Corona and his son were both chained, manacles at their wrists with chains that were just long enough to allow them to do simple tasks, and their ankles also fettered to allow nothing more than a modest stride. Selestia and Stella did not have their hands restrained, but Kuoji knew that their ankles were chained.  
Helin was divested of all his royal trappings. His crown and robe were gone, leaving him in a plain undershirt with a yellow silk tunic over it, and matching breeches. Solan was dressed similarly, in red. Their clothes showed signs of struggles, and Kuoji bit back a smile as his gaze slid over to Sialen, looking beautiful and regal as she was in her dark satin and diamonds.  
The family was ushered to the table at the side of the room opposite the openings to the courtyard. The impotent rage and frustration in Helin's expression was clear as he regarded his conqueror, sitting in the seat that had traditionally been his. Kuoji turned his head slightly, seeing that Azami did not bother to hide a cold smirk as she regarded the former king of Corona.  
Their table was below the front table, making it easy for Azami to see them. They were the subject of attention from nearly the entire room as Helin yelled and pointed at the Coronans who sat at a separate table with several Atyamainese.  
“The Heavenly Father will strike you down for your betrayal! Not even the Mother would offer you any mercy!”  
Kuoji let out a slow sigh, remembering the religion of this land well. There were four deities – the Father, Mother, Son, and Daughter. The Father reigned supreme above all, filling the role of the head of the family as well as the creator of the world, and his word was law. The Mother was… well, the mother. She represented the caretaker and nurturer, as well as servant to the Father. The Son was a compliment to his father, servant and heir alike. Likewise, the Daughter was compliment to her mother. The Son and Daughter represented the younger generation, and filial piety was emphasized in their roles, though more so for the Daughter, of course.  
Their roles were mirrored in Coronan society. A man was always head of the household, and he would decide things for the family, who was expected to obey him. Women were not eligible to lead, and if a man had no son or grandson to carry on his line, the position would pass to a nephew, brother or some other qualified male relative, to ensure the continuance of the family. A man's house was his castle, it was oft said, and his family were his vassals, subject to his whims. It was usually the Father who was prayed to, and many shrines and temples featured him only, or him and his son. If all four were featured in a painting or statue, the Father was inevitably positioned above the other three.  
Women might have smaller shrines, in the corner of the pantry or kitchen, or some other space normally reserved for women, for the Mother or Daughter. There were relatively few female-only temples within the city. Their provenance was strictly limited to matters that were seen as belonging to females, such as childbirth, child-rearing, house-keeping, and so on.  
“I bore of hearing about your Heavenly Father,” Azami stated in a cool, clear tone. “He's had his chance to express his displeasure many times thus far, and I have seen nothing of it.” She gestured to the banner behind her. “Always remember, a light casts shadow. Light can not exist without darkness, but darkness can exist without light. Night always follows day.”  
“And day follows night!” Solan retorted hotly.  
“So I suppose that I can expect the sun to return tomorrow morning?” Kuoji replied glibly. “That reassures me. Now that we have cleared that up, I would like to eat. It has been a long day for all of us, and I do not doubt that we all welcome this respite… including you. Of course, I am sure that my aunt would not hesitate to send you to bed without supper if you continue to act like a naughty child.”  
Solan seemed about to say something else, but he wilted under the stares of so many.  
The tables had already been set with dinnerware and various eating utensils, and servants poured into the room, carrying platters and tureens of various food items, both Coronan and Atyamainese.  
The head table was served first, and naturally, were served with the choicest bits of meat and delicacies. Kuoji did not miss the eyes of the former royals as the dishes passed by their table, several Coronan servants giving them pitying glances, but daring nothing more under the supervision of their new masters. They were the last to be served, and while their food was far from inedible, it was also a far cry from what was being served to Azami and her companions.  
“What the hell is this?” Helin complained, poking at the dark brown bread that had been placed before him. It was the kind of simple bread that was a staple for peasants. His other choices included a salad that consisted of baser vegetables, like turnips, and a stew of carrots, onions, potatoes, and a bit of meat. Solan looked equally indignant, but Selestia and Stella took nibbles and then bigger bites of their food, hunger overcoming offense.  
“If you don't like the food, then don't eat,” Azami stated before swallowing a spoonful of the spicy, fragrant squash soup that she'd ladled into a small bowl from the tureen that had been set on the table. “Mmm. Well, I just discovered something I actually like about this land,” Azami stated.  
“If you like that, there are several other things I can recommend,” Sialen offered as she took some soup for herself. Azami responded with a brief but approving nod. The room filed with the level din of conversation and the occasional clink of dinnerware as the meal progressed.  
To provide some entertainment amidst the banquet, one of the Atyamainese men trained in the art of the jester began to perform. While hours before he had been dressed in a warrior's armor, now he wore garish robes and wig of wild, white hair. He danced about the room, every movement exaggerated, and on occasion, would approach one of the guests and jibe at them, alternating between Atyamainese, and a fairly good command of Coronan. He did a cartwheel as he approached the head table before doing a little jig.  
“You're now the leader of this land! Not bad for a third-born child, I must say!” the jester said, bowing to Azami with an exaggerated flourish of one arm. “Not bad at all!”

o0o

At first, when the jester started insulting people, Sialen wondered why the recipients of his comments didn't get angry with him. However, after several encounters, she realized that this was an accepted form of humor, and it seemed that the jester was artful about his jibes, following some unspoken rule about how far he could go.  
The entire situation almost felt surreal to her. Here she was, sitting with the conquerors and new rulers of Corona, while her family was being fed what amounted to them as scraps. It was hard to not feel at least a small amount of schadenfreude at the way her father and brother were being treated, and their response to the situation.  
“I know that this has not been easy for you. I understand it is a lot to take in, and I am pleased with how you are handling it. I mean that in the most complimentary way, of course,” Kuoji said as he leaned over a bit to whisper this to her.  
“It's good to know that,” she replied dryly after taking a sip of wine. “To be sure, my parents tried to… make me conform to their standards. I was much happier defying them, to be honest. Like chasing away the men they allowed to court me.”  
Azami overheard this, and leaned forward a bit to regard her before she glanced at her nephew. “It would see that your princess...” there was a slightly playful tone in her voice as she said the last word, but not in a mean way, “will be an even better fit in Atyamai society than you thought. Perhaps I could even train her to be a warrior," Azami said as she took a savory piece of meat delicately between her manicured fingers before bringing it to her lips and watching the jester.  
“Too willful to be lorded over by fools?" He flashed her a warm smile before he glanced back to his aunt. “Why am I not surprised to hear that? At the very least, I am sure she would benefit from some magic lessons from you.” He quickly turned back to her. “I can only imagine the sort of boorish, fool suitors your father chose for you. No doubt an unworthy lot.”  
“Oh, I have quite a few stories, if you'd care to hear them. One of them claimed that if I did not know how to use my tongue properly, he'd cut it off as soon as he married me. I responded that I would cut his penis off before he could bed me, and I said it in such a cold and serious tone that I literally saw him flinch.”  
Kuoji smirked at her comment, but there was a darkness to his gaze, anger lurking beneath the surface. He turned to his aunt with the same expression, and Azami stared at them, her eyes narrowed again.  
“The backwards manner in which the people of Corona treat their women is the behavior of ignorant savages. Taking this place was as much a liberation of half of the population as anything else,” Azami finally said after a moment. It was not until then that Sialen realized that the other occupants of the table had been listening to them, and she blushed faintly.  
“I have heard...” the man on Azami's other side spoke, his speech halting. “many things about… how women are treated… here. It… saddens my heart… to hear it… true.” He was a middle-aged man, with a tightness to the left side of his face that she deduced contributed to his method of speech more than his limited grasp of the Coronan language. He also seemed to have limited use of his left hand, but it was clear from his placement at this table that his disability was no detriment to his service.  
“I can assure you sir, no one is sadder than the women these things are done to.” Sialen responded. “However, it is clear to me even in this short time, that the Atyamai are kinder to their women. I bear no grudge for your presence here.”  
The man offered her a kind smile. Azami nodded approvingly.  
“Honestly, is it any wonder we were able to conquer them? They don't let their women fight, or learn swordsmanship or other such skills.” She glanced over at Helin. “A real man does not feel the need to subjugate women to make himself feel stronger. If anything, a truly strong man would embrace a strong woman, for her strength can complement and bolster his own. That is, if the woman chooses to embrace a man.” Azami added with a small smirk, her voice loud and clear.  
At that, Solan was unable to resist, as he glared at his sister and then back at Azami. “Then why are women smaller and weaker than men, and the ones to bleed and give birth?” he spat out. Sialen rolled her eyes at her brother, but did not deign a response.  
“Because men are such weaklings when it comes to blood and birth. If men started bleeding from their cocks, the world would come to a standstill.” Azami shot back. “When you're sent to the Islands, I will add a personal message to my brother to make sure that you are... re-educated and removed from your backwards thinking.” She paused as she sat back in her chair. “Or would you prefer to stay here, and I can put you both in dresses and makeup?” she asked. Solan gasped in terror.  
In Corona, transvestites were not tolerated, and a man who liked to cross-dress was disdained and even sometimes persecuted. It was considered an insult to compare a man to the weaker sex, or make any such insinuations.  
“The lack of courtesy only further shows their barbarism. They should be thankful they're not being tortured. Instead they sit here and act like poorly-reared children. It's no surprise they failed to hold onto their lands. That said, I do wonder how they were able to ever claim them at all!” She then continued in loud, firm Atyamainese, and a good amount of men started chuckling.  
Sialen raised her eyebrow at Kuoji, and he shrugged. “She is simply repeating what she said, for the benefit of those not versed in your language.” He then turned his attention to his former masters.  
“Does the thought of wearing a dress scare you?” he asked, looking down the table, his tone sounding genuinely curious. “Are you so insecure in your manhood that such acts would somehow call it into question?” The comment drew a few laughs, though some chose to politely ignore it instead. It also had its desired effect- drawing the attention of the jester. The clown danced his way over, his wild movements and bright clothes standing out amongst so many wearing black or muted colors. Once he reached the former Sol nobility, he began a series of insults about the questioning of manhood and men who were insecure in their gender.  
“You know you would not be here, if you did not come through a woman's vagina?” the jester jeered. Several people laughed, and he repeated it in Atyamainese, eliciting more laughter. “I do not think you would wish to come through a man's organ!”  
Helin's face bordered on purple, and Solan regarded the jester with a dark scowl. Sialen knew from experience that if he had not been manacled, he would likely have risen from his seat to attack the jester.  
“… So, you're not afraid of wearing a dress?” Sialen whispered to Kuoji. Her next words were spoken more loudly, in response to Azami's comment.  
“To answer your comment, my ancestors were conquerors, like you are now. Centuries ago, the dynasty that came before mine was apparently just as weak as my father and brother are now, which made it easy for my ancestors to conquer them. Of course, once the conquest was done, generations went by with increased idleness, and increasing pride and arrogance as well, as you can see here.” Her message had a subtler point – if two dynasties had become so weak as to be conquered by others, the Tekura should caution that it didn't happen to themselves, as well.  
Azami nodded, and Kuoji's eyes twinkled as he regarded his captive with a small smile.  
“A dress certainly is not my first choice in garments," he replied. “However, if I had to do so, I would continue to be aware of my manhood and skills.” He paused to take a mouthful of his salad before he spoke again. “Uncivilized dynasties rise and fall. They root themselves in foolish zealotry, persecute their own people, and lapse into idleness. Our ways actively avoid all of these shortcomings. We strive for perfection in body, mind, and deed. We do not sit lazily and expect an invisible being in the sky to do life's work for us.”  
“Then your family just might fare better than most of the dynasties I've read about in the history books, Your confidence in your manhood is also admirable and refreshing, I will admit.”  
“I do like to see men in dresses, but that's just a personal taste,” Azami joked as she sipped her wine. The banquet went on pleasantly, with Helin grumbling some about the jester or his food, but he had not eaten all day, and hunger finally overcame his finickiness. After their meal was complete, the former royals were escorted away to the dungeons, placed under the guard of men who were much more effective in their duty than their predecessors; no one would be able to sneak in and rescue the family with what Sialen didn't doubt were well-trained sentinels, on watch.  
“Well, I do believe that went well for a first day.” Azami said in a tone that bordered on cheerful. “I do not doubt that many of you are eager for a rest. Go on, you have earned it.”  
Sialen was quiet as high-ranking officials, soldiers, and Coronan allies approached the table to bow and make obeisance to Azami and Kuoji. She was the subject of more than a few glances. A slow breath filled her lungs as she saw a certain nobleman approach, a man that her father had long considered one of his closest allies.  
House Starsmore was an ancient bloodline, one who claimed to have the blood of the previous dynasty in their veins, though they also had the claim of sharing blood-ties with Sol, through the exchange of daughters generations back. This man was a distant cousin of hers, though so many times removed that he had little, if any, claim to the throne. Not that that mattered now.  
Lord Starsmore was one of the last people she would have expected to turn against her father, but then perhaps his support through the years had been nothing more than a veneer, she mused. Given what Kuoji had said about the invasion of Corona being planned for decades, she wondered how long Lord Starsmore had been part of that plot.  
“Lady Sialen,” the middle-aged man stated with a polite bow of his head. “It gladdens my heart to see that you are well.”  
She gave a brief nod. “Today has been full of...” She hesitated for a moment, “Surprises.” She glanced at him, and the dark-haired man smiled at her kindly.  
“Well, your father had quite a few surprises to shock him as well, I am sure. However, unlike him, I did not blind myself to the inevitable, and it would appear that you have exercised similar wisdom.” He glanced over at Azami and Kuoji before returning his attention to her. “Despite how I may feel about your father and brother, I assure you, I am no enemy of yours. It is my sincerest wish that you find happiness in these circumstances.”  
“Thank you for your kind words.” She gave him a polite nod, seeing no need to say anything further or elaborate.

o0o

Kuoji stifled a yawn before he rose from his chair. Azami regarded him as she spoke to him in Atyamainese.  
“Are you eager to be alone with your princess?” she teased lightly.  
Kuoji gave her a dry smirk. “If I were a typical Coronan male, I am sure you would know my response to that.”  
“Then it's a good thing for you both, that you are not.”  
He nodded. “Good night, aunt. I do not doubt you will sleep well tonight.”  
Azami gave him a brief smile before he turned to Sialen, offering his arm. She took it, and he led her outside. Gently touching her chin with his fingers, he lifted her face so that their eyes met.  
“You know, the moonlight becomes you,” he said softly as he studied her face.  
“Thank you. By the way, your aunt mentioned magic. What kind of magic does she use? I'm guessing Earth?”  
He raised his eyebrow. “You are correct. How did you know?”  
“I think Azami showed it to me, on purpose. At dinner, when she spoke of magic. I saw a flash of her aura, it was golden-green.”  
“I believe she was testing you. Normally, she keeps the nature of her magic hidden, to avoid detection. I am sure she will be pleased to know that you passed her test.”  
“It's possible to hide your magic?” Sialen asked. He nodded. Fortunately for him, he had been able to keep his Black magic hidden, the reality of his situation back then giving him the impetus to develop the unconscious ability to keep his Black magic hidden, not just for himself, but for his mother's sake. It was rare, but a novice mage could develop abilities beyond the norm under the right – or wrong – circumstances.  
“It is a tactic that only mages of very advanced skill are able to utilize. Speaking of skill… I know that the women of Corona are not educated in a way that makes full use of their facilities. I don't suppose you've made any headway in healing magic? As I recall, you struggled with that before.”  
It was oft said that magic had a mind of its own. Many mages would see their abilities incline towards one direction or another. With enough practice and study, a mage could overcome this bent, but it was no easy task to subvert nature.  
She gave a brief shrug. “I've gotten a little better at healing, but still have a hard time with it and every time I am simply told that I am not trying hard, that I need to pray to the Mother for her blessing and guidance, and so on.”  
“So nothing has changed, huh?” This did not surprise him – male mages were given a more varied and in-depth education than female mages. Women were restricted to instruction in the healing and domestic arts as far as their magic could be applied to such. It was rare for a woman to be able to learn anything other than what society dictated was appropriate for her sex.  
She gave him a wry smile. “I did my own studies. I spend as much time as I can in the library, and found some material which enabled me to try different venues for my abilities. It's not the same thing as having an actual teacher, but something is better than nothing.”  
“And what can you do?”  
She hesitated. “Well, I can sense water from a certain distance., and coax a limited amount of it at my command.”  
He suspected there was something she was not telling him, but he decided to not press the subject.  
“You know very well that Water is not my natural element, but I've received more than enough instruction in Atyamai that I am sure some of what I know would be useful to you.”  
“I remember,” she smiled faintly. “I don't doubt that Fire magic helped you and your mother, back then.”  
Kuoji nodded slowly as he remembered his days before serving Helin, back then. It was much easier to light a fire with magic than with kindling, or manipulate it for cooking or other practical purposes. As a half-breed bastard, he wasn't given a full education as a legitimate child, especially the sons of noblemen, but he'd been instructed in the basics of Fire magic, not so much for his own safety as for others.  
“That's not the only magic I command. I inherited more from my father than you would think.”  
Before Sialen could ask her inevitable question, he flicked his hand, and the shadows around them thickened, forming a barrier between them and the banquet hall, rendering them invisible to those remaining inside. She gave a gasp and stepped backward.  
“It was you who cast the palace in darkness earlier?”  
“Not just me. Cloaking such a large structure required the combined effort of quite a few Black mages. It was not easy, I assure you, but the effort paid off quite well.”  
She gave out a small, uneasy chuckle. “Well, I can see how you call yourselves the Dark Hand.”  
Seeing her discomfort, he dispelled the darkness. “Yes. It runs strong in our family, though as you see in Azami's case and mine, we do temper our bloodlines with other magics.”  
“Did you know you could do this? Back then?”  
He nodded. “Mother warned me to never, ever practice it around others, or hint at, or even joke that I had this ability.”  
Both of them knew very well why. To the Heavenly Father, Black magic was profane, and children who were found to show any talent for it were put into the custody of the Father's clerics, where this “impurity” was met with beatings, scourging, forced fasts, and prayer. Given the fact that he was half Atyamainese, it was likely that he might have been put to death, instead of undergoing “purification”  
“The hour grows late, Sialen. I would not be a very good host if I did not ensure that you had what you needed. Would you like to retire for the night?”  
“Yes. I am tired.” She looked away, at the courtyard for several moments before her gaze returned to him. There was uncertainty in her eyes, and she seemed unsure of what to say.  
“Do you have something to ask?”  
“So… how long do you intend to stay here before you have to return to your father?”  
“I suppose around a fortnight, or so. Why, are you so eager to leave Corona?”  
She quickly looked down. “I just wanted to know.”  
“Please, don't consider yourself a prisoner, here or in Atyamai. As I said, you are under my protection. You will be able to roam the palace freely, and you will no longer be required to engage in… what did you call it, back then? Useless girly distractions?” he asked in a slightly teasing tone.  
She looked back at him with a faint smile. He spoke again, “My aunt or I will require your presence at times, but otherwise, do as you please,” he assured her, wishing to put her at ease. Even now, he could sense the wall she had put around herself. It was something that had existed back then, and he didn't doubt that the walls were higher and thicker now. Not that he could exactly blame her.  
“Good night, Luca… Kuoji.” she quickly corrected herself.  
“Sleep well, Sialen. Tomorrow's a new day, and certain to be better for you than the previous morn.”  
She started to do a curtsey, but stopped herself and bowed to him. He bowed back to her.

o0o

Her return to her apartments was uneventful, and Sialen was slightly surprised when two of her ladies-in-waiting approached her. Kuoji had said nothing about whether she would have any of her maids, or if Sana would be her sole attendant. She turned to scan the room, and saw the Atyamainese woman seated in the corner much like a statue, her hands in her lap, staring ahead. As they made eye contact, Sana gave her a brief nod.  
“She just sits there… and stares,” the taller of the two maids whispered.  
“It is something we will have to get used to, I suppose,” Sialen replied nonchalantly. She had no fondness of Ania. As was tradition, a Queen or Princess' ladies-in-waiting or handmaidens were generally selected from daughters of noble houses great and small – though of course, the more powerful a family was, the better chance their daughter was to have a higher positions in a queen or princess' retinue. Mother had always selected the ladies-in-waiting her daughters would have. Inevitably, the selections would be girls and women that Selestia approved of, which usually meant that Sialen would have little in common with them – at best.  
However, Mother was no longer in charge. That realization gave Sialen pause. “How did you come back here?” she asked. Ania gave out a small huff at that before flipping her dark blond braid over her shoulder.  
“That woman...” She pointed a finger at Sana, as if accusing her of a crime, “walked amongst us while the soldiers were keeping us in the courtyard. She asked for your attendants, so here we are. At least, what's left of us, anyway.”  
“I see,” she offered neutrally. “If you don't like it, then go. Return to your family!”  
“...What?” Ania whispered incredulously. The other girl, Prilla, stared at her.  
“You heard me. Your services are no longer needed.”  
“What? Your mother placed us here, you cannot simply dismiss us, even if you are the princess!” Ania argued. Sialen stared at her coolly.  
“My mother is no longer Queen, as you will recall.”  
Ania opened her mouth, before she closed it, struggling for something to say. She exchanged glances with the other lady.  
“You are both dismissed from my service,” Sialen said with a wave of her hand. She'd tried to dismiss ladies before, but her mother had always had the final word about who was in her retinue.  
“But… but that's not proper!” Prilla said with a gasp. Sialen inhaled slowly. Prilla had always grated on her nerves. The chubby young woman had a tendency to overindulge in food – a major character flaw as far as Selestia was concerned – but in every other aspect, she was the ideal female. She dressed properly, spoke properly, behaved properly, and every thought she had in her delicate mind was probably also proper. Any time Sialen might do or say something that had even just a whiff of impropriety to it, Prilla inevitably commented on it, which Selestia saw as a useful tool to remind her daughter of ladylike behavior.  
She also had the tendency to get flustered easily, which Sialen had to admit to herself was at times amusing to provoke in the easily-offended lady. Now was certainly one of these times.  
“Prilla, my dear,” Sialen said sweetly. “Things have changed. The Sol dynasty has come to an end. As Azami and Kuoji have stated earlier, this land is now under Atyamai law. Whatever my father or mother say, counts for nothing.” She paused as she recalled what she'd just learned of the Atyamainese view of women. “Likewise for anyone else who would lecture me on propriety, especially you. I must admit, there are so many times I've wanted to slap you whenever you went into fits over something I said or did.”  
Prilla stared at her with wide brown eyes and took a step back, her hand fluttering to her chest.  
“You don't mean for us to go… out there? With all these men around?”  
“If the men of Atyamai were half the monsters that we were told they were, neither of you would be intact right now,” Sialen pointed out. “Besides, as I said before, your services are not needed. Mother selected my ladies in waiting in her attempt to mold me into a proper young lady. I have never needed that, and now that she is no longer in charge of the ladies' quarters, there is no more excuse for you to remain. Go back to your families. You will be safe with them, provided that your families bow to the new rulers.”  
“Well then,” Ania said with a small scowl. The two had never truly gotten along, but Ania had been there at the Queen's request, and ladies-in-waiting for Queens and Princesses often made connections that benefited them later in life, especially marriage. Now, these opportunities were gone. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “It is not proper for a woman to stay where she is not wanted or needed, so I will take my leave.” She gave out a haughty sniff and lifted her skirts before she curtsied and turned away.  
A strangled giggle burst from Sialen at this posturing. It wasn't that she had expected much different from the snobbish noblewoman, but her display was nonetheless amusing. She stared at Prilla.  
“Go with her, is it not improper for a single woman to be alone amidst men?” Sialen asked sharply. Prilla gave out a sharp squeak and did a curtsey, although with none of the hauteur that Ania commanded, before quickly following the other woman out of the room. Neither of them offered any acknowledgment to Sana, but it seemed that the soldier did not expect any.  
Sialen stood there in silence for several moments, savoring the peace and quiet. She didn't know if she would be assigned ladies-in-waiting in Atyamai, but she was certain that she would get along with them better than the ones Mother tended to pick for her.  
In the meantime, she could enjoy what time she had left here in Corona without the impediment of said ladies. She thought about what she'd said to her former ladies-in-waiting, and didn't doubt that either of them might have a few choice words to say about her and what she'd said and done tonight. In the end, did that really matter?  
She walked over to the window, looking outside. The bustle that had been there earlier was replaced by a quiet, and if not for the dark-garbed Atyamai soldiers and the banners of the Dark Hand, it might almost seem like any ordinary night. Had everything that occurred today been nothing but a dream, to be dispelled into reality once she woke up? However, she recalled Kuoji's touch on her cheek, and the warm stroke of his fingers against her face. The friend she'd thought long gone had returned to her life, heralding a new reality. And as it turned out, it wasn't one she necessarily had to fear… at least, hopefully.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The origins of Sialen and Kuoji's friendship is revealed

 

**Moonshadows**

 

**III**

 

o0o

 

One might have thought that Kuoji would wake up disoriented to such a radical change in surroundings, but as someone who hadn't slept in his own bed for several months, the change in furnishings and otherwise was something he'd barely come to notice. However, he did marvel at the sheer opulence and luxury evinced in the royal apartments of the Sol family. Solan, whose room Kuoji now occupied, had a down mattress that was so soft that Kuoji had ended up sleeping on several comforters spread out on the floor.

It was still early in the morning, so Kuoji decided to better acquaint himself with his current residence.

Solan's wardrobe overflowed with garb enough to last ten men their lifetimes. The former Prince's lack of appreciation for what he had was made clear through the laundry casually discarded for minor flaws and accidents. Kuoji recalled a time where Solan had angrily tossed a shirt after a sparring match with another nobleman for a tear it had in its sleeve. Kuoji had taken the shirt, presumably to dispose of it as the Prince had demanded, but he'd taken to his mother who was able to transform the princely garment to several practical items of underclothes.

_Such a waste_ , Kuoji mused. Though vanity was seen as a sin of the fairer sex, men certainly were not immune to it. He made a cursory perusal of Solan's personal trappings, choosing a few practical items for himself.

There was a light knock, and Kuoji invited his manservant into the chamber. The older man glanced around at the mess Kuoji had made of his room, piles of the former Prince's garments here and there.

“If you see something you like, take it,” Kuoji said negligently, waving his hand. “I have no need for such items, and I would be remiss to not allow others to make use of them.” Though in Atyamai, just as anywhere else, wealthy people had more than their poorer counterparts, excess was still frowned upon, and if one was assured of having no further use for an item, it was considered gracious to pass it to someone else who would make use or enjoyment of it.

“I thank you, sire. Would you like your tea?” he asked, acknowledging the offering, but as was common among the Atyamai, he did not make an overt display of his excitement at the opportunity.

“Yes. Are there any messages?” he asked. Had there been an emergency, he would have been roused out of sleep, but he did not doubt that there would be requests to see him, and business to handle. He listened with half an ear as he moved over to the window, looking outside. When he'd been nothing more than a bastard child of a servant, he'd never imagined that he would ever be able to experience this sort of view, especially as a ruler, not a barely-tolerated citizen.

A pot of hot water was delivered to him on a tray that held several other items. He pulled a packet out of his bag, adding his own personal blend of tea to the water before letting it steep.

As he waited for his tea to be ready, his mind wandered to Sialen, as it had often done throughout the night. He almost couldn't believe that he was actually here, and with as much power as he had under his command. Never, during his old life here, had he ever had such lofty aspirations.

 

o0o

 

A Decade Ago

 

Having even just a Touch of Fire made life somewhat easier for the holder of said gift, and others as well. With at least a Touch, a Fire Mage could create a spark to light a fire or torch, saving the considerable effort it sometimes took to light a fire. Fire Mages also seemed to not experience heat as acutely as others, which made high summer easier on them than others. In winter, a Fire Mage could coax a fire to produce more heat.

Lukas flicked his fingers, and fire started in the corner of a junction between logs where he'd tucked some kindling. Once the flame was firmly entrenched in that small area, Lukas gave a mental push, encouraging the flames to spread and intensify. He had only a touch of Fire magic, so he was unable to perform spectacular feats, but his talent had its definite uses. The flames leaped from log to log, and in what felt like no time to him, the fire was going.

His mind wandered to a subject that'd given him no end of grief the last few days. The glassblower in town stated that he sought several assistants, and should any of them show promise, he would officially apprentice him. Lucas had admitted himself to the pool of candidates that the glassblower would choose from.

Despite him answering the questions and performing the tasks that were asked of him, and the fact that he had Fire magic – a magic that was of considerable use in the fine art of glass – he was aware of the old man's disapproval. The glassblower was tactful enough to not say so out loud, but Lucas knew that his mixed heritage had doomed his venture from the start. Some of the other boys had sneered at him, and a couple had even whispered insults to him under their breath.

Unable to retaliate, he had taken their barbs in stolid silence, turning his focus to the boys ahead of him who were being tested, noting what the glassblower sought in an assistant, and doing his best to fulfill these requirements when his turn had come. As the old man was about to end the interview, Lucas brought up his Fire magic. This caught the old man's interest – none of the other boys had such a gift.

Nonetheless, the glassblower chose three boys, and Lukas had not been among them. Not for the first time in his life, he hated the Atyamainese part of his heritage. An unknown father had impregnated his mother, leaving her to raise a mixed-race bastard child on her own. He was lower than even the poorest whoresons in the village. Because of the immutable stamp of his heritage that was apparent to anyone who looked at him, he'd been judged harshly ever since the day he came into this world.

He knew that when he was older, he would leave this place forever. Where, he was not quite sure. Would the people of Atyamai accept him any better than the Coronans did? He had a dream, of finding his father's family and being welcomed by them. Such was an impossibility, though. Mother's parents were both dead, and she might as well have been a bastard herself, given what her father had done.

A low huff burst from his chest. He knew that he would have been a good assistant, and fairly certain that he might have become apprentice, if he had been given a fair chance to develop his skills. He was no longer a little boy, and knew that eventually he would have to find a way to support himself. Not that he wanted to shirk the responsibility, of course, but how could he take that responsibility if others wouldn't let him? How well would he fare in the southern kingdom of Viruch, or Corona and Viruch's shared neighbor, Dakul?

Lucas startled a bit as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his mother, Amyra. With green eyes like his own, and dark blonde hair, Amyra was an attractive woman despite her hard living. She would have a better life if not for him, he mused. Without a bastard child to take care of, Amyra might have been married to one of the men in town. But no man wanted to take responsibility for a half-Atyamainese boy, much less adopt him as a son.

“Go get more water, please,” Amyra said. Lucas nodded and rose to his feet before getting two buckets and making his way to the riverbank. He made several trips between the river and the cauldron, and paused at the shore as he stared at the rushing water, a recent summer storm having caused the river to rise in height and speed. If he could move as swiftly as the water, he could go anywhere, he pondered.

A shout from across the river drew his attention…

 

o0o

 

Kuoji pulled his mind back to the present as he reached for the pitcher, pouring himself a cup of tea. Letting the hot, faintly bitter liquid slide down his throat, he pondered this day's schedule of events. There would be the morning sup, and then a few hours in Court, to pass edicts as well as meet representatives from more noble families. Then a nuncheon, and more Court time. He knew that this was necessary as a way for their new subjects to come to better know their rulers, as well as give Azami a better understanding of her constituents, at least some of them.

After pondering his attire for a few moments, Kupji selected a deep red undershirt and matching trousers, with a black robe over it, the Dark Hand on the left side of the front. Daggers hidden in his boots and his sword strapped at his side, the prince of the Atyamai Empire stepped out of his apartment. Servants, both Coronan and Atyamainese, bustled through the hallways on various errands.

The banquet hall was much more sparsely occupied than the night before. Only three tables were set, and little more than half of the breakfast guests had already arrived. After making the proper greetings to his aunt, he took his seat, the same he'd been in the night before.

Tea and coffee were being served. After a moment of indecision, he took the coffee. He'd not had this since he'd come to Atyamai, and the scent of it had always comforted him. Azami raised an eyebrow as she saw his choice. “I thought your time with us would have destroyed any Coronan influence on you,” she joked. Unlike him, the rest of the Atyamainese had chosen tea, with the few Coronans there choosing coffee. He could understand the distaste for coffee however, after having spent the last decade sampling the various teas of Atyamai, where even the bitterest concoction lacked the burnt-earth taste of the ground beans that were harvested in the warmer regions of Corona.

“Do you never tire of tea?” Kuoji shot back with a faint smile.

“Tea is one of the cornerstones for a civilized society,” Azami replied as she lifted her cup, her tone light and teasing. Despite her own preference, Azami was not about to make coffee illegal. One of the things that lent to the stability of the Atyamai Empire was its focus on more important laws, and leaving it to its newly-gained – or conquered – citizens to decide what they wanted to eat or wear, for the most part. Less disruption of the daily minutiae that occupied their lives meant easier assimilation into the Empire.

“Looking at our society, I am hardly one to argue the point,” he teased back before his attention was riveted by a flash of green. Sialen entered the room, shoulders held back, hands folded neatly in front of her, just like last night. Technically, she was no longer a princess, but she exuded the aura of one, nonetheless. She was clad in an emerald-green dress with silver threading along the bodice and hems.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he took in the sight of her, and beckoned to her to sit with him as she had last night. Gracefully, she picked up her skirts to climb the few steps, and took her place beside him.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked after greeting her. She paused for a moment before nodding. Deciding to not press the matter further, he changed the subject.

“Azami and I will be spending a fair amount of time in Court over the next few days, as well as meetings, and going over the laws and changing them as necessary.”

“Very well,” was all she had to say. She maintained her politeness and respect, and Kuoji did not doubt that she would behave with dignity here and in Atyamai, but there was that wall around her, the unspoken barrier she used to keep others away. Granted, she had much to think about and process. He knew that when he had learned of his true origin, and met his father, it'd taken him several days to be fully ready to acclimate to Atyamainese life and his new station.

Instead of trying to elicit further speech from her, he let her eat in peace, turning his attention to his aunt and their advisers and listening to their conversation. He did not miss her lack of appetite, noting that she had an egg and several slices of crispy fried apples, pushing the food around on the plate. She did deign to sample the tea, and he noted her interest as she took a first sip, before she finished two cups of it through the meal.

“I need to take a walk and get some fresh air before I am stuck in Court. Would you walk with me?” he asked, offering his hand. She took it, and he led her down the steps, looking forward to being with her away from so many pairs of eyes.

“A moment, my prince,” he heard Lord Strsmore behind him. The lord rose from his seat when the Prince stopped, and approached him, bowing his head.

“If I might speak with Lady Sialen for a few minutes, my lord?” he asked.

Kuoji pondered the request for a moment. He did not think that the newly-appointed Governor of the Southern Province had any improper intentions.

“Only a few minutes,” Kuoji stated. Sialen shot him a mildly surprised glance before Lord Starsmore led her to the outside area, well within view of the Prince and his aunt, but out of earshot if one spoke in a soft tone.

 

o0o

 

What was it Lord Starsmore could possibly want, Sialen mused as she looked up at the older man.

“Titles in the Atyamai are as important as they are here. I have a piece of advice for you, and I do not give it lightly. Create a title for yourself. Give yourself a new surname. I sincerely doubt 'Lady Sol' will endear you to the Imperial Court. If you like, you can take the name Starsmore, because after all, we _are_ related, however distantly.”

She gazed at him contemplatively, wondering if he might have some ulterior motive in tying himself with her. She clearly held Kuoji's favor, but how much could other people use that for their advantage?

“I made that suggestion because my name is regarded well by the Prince's parents and others in the Imperial Court. Knowing you are related to me, and granted my name, should give you a level of ease in dealings. Of course, if you like, I suppose you could give yourself the surname of any of the houses from the maternal lines,” he said with a shrug. “Though I doubt House Fiori would be too pleased to have you take their name, with your relationship with the Prince,” he said with a small smile. House Fiori was the house that Selestia had been born into, and its daughters were generally comely, and much-sought after by other powerful houses. “Or the fact that because of the Atyamai, their fortunes have been greatly reduced.”

“And yours increased,” Sialen deduced. “What happened?”

“I have just been named the Warden of the Southern Province.”

“The entire Province?” Sialen asked. The Southern Province referred to a significant part of Corona, taking up nearly a third of the country. The upper half of this province was lush and green, and much of it was – until now, apparently – under the control of a long line of Fiori lords.

He nodded in response. His governorship effectively made him one of the most powerful men in Corona, or at least what used to be Corona.

“At least, what is left of it, the Viruchids were granted the Gray Reaches and the land south of it, in return for their alliance. Most of the army in the north and east are Atyamai, but the south has heavy support from Viruch.

“The Tekura apparently are not stingy with their rewards,” Sialen observed.

“That is one of the reason why they now rule,” Starsmore replied in a placid tone. “But I regret that I have used up my minutes. Do keep in mind what I told you about choosing a name, hmm?” he asked. She nodded, and he gave her a quick bow before he retreated, Kuoji quickly taking bis place.

“What is this about Lord Starsmore being the Warden of the Southern Province? And some of Corona going to Viruch?” she asked. It was not that she took offense at such actions, but given that the Atyamainese apparently had a more open mind about what women should know, she decided she might as well ask for more information and be aware of what was happening around her, near and far.

“The Gray Reaches once belonged to Viruch, before Corona wrested it from them. The lands of Corona are ample enough that we can share some with our allies, and further ensure peace. Dakul is getting some land as well, along its borders, almost as much as Viruch. Should I tell you who the rest of our governors will be? Or do you have any other questions to ask me?” he asked, a faint smile on his lips as he regarded her, the warm light of morning making his eyes as vibrant as emeralds.

“What is to be my station in the Imperial Court?” Sialen asked, recalling just what Starsmore had brought her out here to discuss. “You said I would be able to become a citizen instead of a prisoner. Which I am of course grateful for...” She paused. “I am no longer a princess, and do not have illusions of ever being one again. I freely give up the name Sol, so I can take a new one.”

“Yes. Coming with me will be a new beginning for you, in more ways than one. Is there a name you want?” he asked. She hadn't been sure how he would respond to her idea, and was relieved that he seemed to welcome it.

“I need to think,” Sialen replied. She could take on the name Starsmore, but what Kuoji said about a new beginning caused her to think about starting afresh with her name. She could choose one from her own language, or ask Kuoji to help her find a suitable one in the Atyamainese tongue.

“Certainly. Shall we go out to the garden, then?” he asked. She nodded, and allowed him to take her hand as they walked side by side down the steps to a place that she had usually found pleasing, and a welcome refuge from the world, unless someone followed her into the garden, like her brother, or a would-be suitor.

However, Kuoji was hardly a poor companion. They did not speak for several minutes, and simply took their time to admire the garden. If one thing could be said about Selestia, she had exquisite taste, even if she would not touch one speck of dirt. The centerpiece of the royal gardens when they were in season was the former Queen's prized roses, collected from various lines, including some that House Fiori had specially cultivated.

“Azami loves roses. Whatever else she decides to do to this garden, your mother can be assured of the security of these roses,” Kuoji assured her. That reminded her of another subject of concern. Perhaps, after some time in the dungeon, her father was seeing things more clearly. Despite her often fractious relationship with her family, she hoped that she might be able to talk to them.

“Speaking of my mother… when can I see my family?”

“Whenever you wish.”

She paused, staring at him a moment in surprise. “Really?”

“I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. Regardless of everything that has happened, they're still your family. I would suggest waiting another day, or two. Your father tried to give the guards a hard time when they delivered breakfast.”

“I suppose their night's sleep was no good.”

“Your father is a stubborn one. He clings to his religion and perceived divinity.”

“You'd think that if you believed your god would test you, you would act with more grace,” came her snarky reply. He gave out a small snort of amusement.

“The years have not been just kind to you. I always thought you were so elegant before,” Kuoji said in a tone softer than she had expected. “but the years have aged you like a fine wine.”

She'd been given so many flatteries by her suitors that she thought she'd heard them all – the crass, the lewd, the condescending, the artificially clever, and the 'i-am-the-man-so-i-am-better-than-you', that it was refreshing to hear something that actually came across as genuinely admiring, words of praise instead of simple flattery.

“I think you have been blessed more than I,” Sialen demurred. She studied him in the morning sunlight. His ebony hair was glossy and tied back loosely, and the red of the shirt added a touch of fierce regality. She was not sure if the effect was intended, but he wore the colors associated with Fire and Black magic. Some mages tended to a set of colors close to their elements, others didn't follow this minor convention.

He nodded slowly. “You know lie was nfot always easy for me. My trials have been compensated for many times over. But I am certain that Fate has intended for us to share in at least some good fortune.”

“You honor me, Prince.” His gaze was so intent that she lowered her eyes, feeling her heartbeat flutter a bit. She felt something touch her chin, coaxing her to turn her face upward. It was his finger.

“There's no need to be so shy, at least around me.” He smiled at her. “Remember when we first met?”

 

o0o

 

A Decade Ago

 

The annual summer retreat was something Sialen had looked forward to for as long as she could remember. The family would travel north to their summer residence at Golden Lake. The mountains offered them cool air, and here, rules were more relaxed – at least, slightly. Sialen didn't have so many lessons, and she had more free time, which she used to leave the manor, or hide somewhere on its grounds so that her mother couldn't attempt to make her practice her embroidery or memorize poetry.

She'd managed to slip away from her governess when the old woman was taking a nap, and was anxious to escape before Stella could tattle on her. She was able to beg several fruit tarts from the kitchen, carrying the precious cloth-wrapped bundle from one hand in a tied-up cloth. Deftly, she darted through the back hallways of the manor and burst outside, darting to the trees.

Once she was secure in the cover of the woods, she slowed down, catching her breath, cheeks warm from the exertion and the warmth of the day. She would romp through the woods at her leisure, and have her fruit tarts, and there was a river, where she could get water from, or perhaps even have a swim.

Coming to a bend in the river that formed a small pool, she paused and sat down on a rock, seeing how high the water was. She closed her eyes, feeling its flow. As someone blessed with Water magic, she could feel the rhythm of her element. Untying the bundle, she took the first tart out, looking forward to the taste of the glazed blueberries and creamy sweet cheese layer nestled in a firm, yet smooth and buttery crust.

“Hey!” she heard someone call out. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she recognized her brother's voice, and quickly tucked the tart under a flap of cloth before rising to her feet, dusting off her skirt.

Solan lumbered out of the shadows like a bear. Puberty had been kind to him thus far and at thirteen, he was already as tall as Mother, and well-built on top of that.

“Hello,” Sialen offered neutrally. Hopefully she could just humor him a bit and he'd get bored and leave.

“I saw what you got. Give it to me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Like his parents and youngest sister, Solan was good-looking, with golden blonde hair and blue eyes. His wealth and appearance had done no favors for his personality, however.

“There are more in the kitchens, they'll give you a whole basketful!” Sialen pointed out, quickly scooping up her bundle, prepared to make a run for it.

“I'm hungry _now_ ,” Solan demanded.

“Well, you can't have mine!” she spat out, mentally debating whether running left or right would be better. Her brother quickly advanced upon her, and she made a frantic dash to the right. His arm shot out and grabbed the sleeve of her dress, yanking her back to him.

“I am the Crown Prince, next in line for the Heavenly Throne, and I demand obedience!”

“Go to hell!” Sialen shot back as she tried to jerk free of him.

“When you are old enough, I will see you married off to a drooling old man!”

Refusing to be cowed, she flashed cool eyes upon him. “Then I will hire a nursemaid, and be glad that I am free of him _and_ you,” came her retort.

“Hn! Then I will marry you off to an Atyamainese man. They are frustrated all the time and seek depraved ways to attain pleasure, since their penises are so small. And I will have no pity for you, sister dearest.” He grinned down, and she hit him in the side of his face with her bundle, startling him enough to lesson his grip on her. She spun away.

“You seem to know a lot about Atyamainese men...” Sialen taunted. “Hmm, have you taken one to bed? And enjoyed his depraved appetites? Or are you the one with a small manhood?”

Solan's expression transformed from petty selfishness to unmasked fury. His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips twisted to give the normally sunny-looking youth a dark countenance. Barely when the young Princess understood what was happening, her brother had lowered his upper body and rammed into her, knocking her backwards and causing her to tumble into the pool.

With the fast-moving water, Sialen was pulled downstream, and with her sleeves and skirt clinging to her limbs, she was finding it difficult to swim. She gasped and flailed as she tried to orient herself and make her way to the riverbank, the churning water spinning her a couple of times. Suddenly, there was another body up against hers, an arm securely wrapped around her middle as a thin but strong chest flexed against her back.

 

o0o

 

“How fortunate we were that day,” Sialen said dryly as her gaze met Kuoji's own.

“How much more fortunate we are today,” Kuoji countered gently. He turned to see an adviser approaching them.

“I regret that our excursion has come to an end.” Kuoji had such an expression of sorrow on his face as he stared at her, as if it would crush his heart to leave the garden. She was aware of this streak of melodrama, remembering it well from back then, and had to fight a grin.

“Fear not, my Prince. There is tomorrow, and the next day and so on as long as the sun rises.”

“There is also tonight, and all the nights for as long as the moon rises.” His expression had changed to one of delight.

“It's nice to see you have not lost your flair for poetry,” Sialen commented as they turned around to go inside.

“It's also nice to see that you haven't abandoned your appreciation of my skills.”

Sialen did not miss how much more openly confident he was as a Prince. He didn't have to keep his eyes averted to the floor in the presence of the nobles or the royal family, or silently accept the subtle, and not-so-subtle insults and slurs that had come his way. She was certain that he had not forgotten his past despite the calm confidence that he exuded. She was well aware of how some things never changed.

At least there were some changes she could accept, and even embrace, she told herself as she and Kuoji entered the audience chamber.

 

o0o

 

Well! This chapter really was a lot of fun for me to write. I know some of you were curious for the backstory, so here it is or at least, some of it. We will be learning more about Imonje and his family in upcoming chapters, as well as more of the Lucas and Sialen flashback. I hope everyone has enjoyed this chapter and the story I have created for our lovers. Feedback/reviews are always appreciated, and thanks to everyone who has enjoyed the story thus far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuoji and Sialen get to know one another better

Moonshadows

IV

o0o

Hauane stared off quietly as she felt the gentle tugging at her scalp as her hair was combed, and braided by her maids. Her hair, which went just past her knees, was a lustrous honey-blonde color, a shade that was unique in the Imperial Court. Her husband, children, stepchildren, maids, and courtiers all had ebony hair, save for a couple of other people who were not native to this land.  
With long practiced ease, the maids completed their task, binding her hair in a thick plait and tying it off with several ribbons. She was already clad in her night robes, the outer layer being of a warm green shade with multicolored flowers embroidered along the hem and sleeves.  
With a gentle wave of her hand, she dismissed her maids before turning to her mirror, reaching out for one of the bottles that sat along the surface in front of the reflective glass. Selecting a container of light blue crystal, she pulled out the stopper and pressing her fingers to the small opening. Lifting her fingers to her neck, she lightly brushed her fingers along the pulse points, leaving behind traces of fragrance. Loosening her robe, she also touched the valley between her breasts.  
Refastening her robes, she rose to her feet and left her apartments, her slippered feet traversing the path to her husband's room as it had done countless nights in the past. The dark-garbed guards that stood at the door to the Emperor's bedchamber were so still that they might as well have been statues, and this image was only further bolstered by their silence as one of them opened the door for her before slipping back into his original position, as if he had not moved at all.  
The door slid closed behind her without the slightest squeak. Many would have found the silence unnerving, but after all her time here, it was comforting in its own way. At certain times of the year, if she listened carefully or went over to the windows, she might hear insects or other noises that were usual in the night, but the Emperor liked for his inner sanctum to be cloaked in the peace of quiet.  
Making her way across the parlor, Hauane let herself through the second door, she was met with the sight of her husband sitting in the alcove, the edge of his robes visible under the bottom of the drapes. Knowing better than to interrupt him when he was working his magic, Hauane moved to the other side of the room, where a large and comfortable bed sat. In front of the bed, on a low table, sat everything needed for tea, including a shallow candle which was situated under the teapot that hung above it.  
She walked over to one of the Emperor's chests, lifting the lid and looking down at the tray that made up the first layer in the receptacle. After moments of deliberation, she chose several herbs, knowing that together, they would make a pleasant tea. She returned to the table and added the herbs to the pot, letting them steep as she glanced over at her husband, who was still ensconced in his alcove.  
Hauane remembered very well the venomous attitude that Coronans had about Black magic. To a people and a king who saw themselves as blessed by the Sun itself, the opposite of light represented its antithesis. Darkness must be evil, they concluded, and so must be the magic that aligned itself with the shadows. Fortunately, the Atyamainese were not so narrow in their views, and White Mages were not reviled. As long as anyone used their skills – magical or not – for the benefit of others, then they were welcome members of the community, regardless of their particular skills.  
Hauane's thoughts were interrupted as she heard the rustle of fabric, and saw the Emperor push aside the drapes and stride across the room to take his seat across from her. Without needing to be prompted, she lowered her head and blew out the candle before she lifted the teapot from the frame that supported it and poured him a cup, doing the same for herself.  
“How are they?” Hauane asked, eschewing the formalities as she always did in his chambers, at his request.  
“Continuing to reap the fruits of their efforts,” the Emperor stated with a small smile before he lifted his cup, inhaling the soothing aroma of the tea. She breathed out a small sigh of relief, knowing – and remembering – all too well how deceptive peace could be.  
“You worry too much, my love,” Imonje chided.  
“He's my son.”  
“He's my son as well.”  
“I'm not about to forget that,” Hauane retorted mildly. Imonje regarded her with a hint of a smirk. Even with his temples streaked with silver, and fine lines at the corner of his eyes, Emperor Imonje was still a very handsome man, and a carefully moderated diet and exercise regimen kept him in better shape than many men half his age, especially in Corona.  
“I would hope that you wouldn't forget. Otherwise my prowess in the bedchamber would be thrown into doubt. I'm sure you don't need a reminder, but I do enjoy refreshing your memory...”  
She felt a faint touch of warmth creep up her neck to settle on her cheeks. “Now, now,” she shot back playfully as she collected herself, “Arrogance is not befitting a man of your esteemed status, my lord.”  
“It is not arrogance if it is true, Ilde.” He only used her original name in their most private moments.  
“The people of Atyamai are blessed to have such an intelligent and wise ruler,” Hauane replied, knowing very well that her taciturn husband would not object to a bit of flattery here and there. No one was, after all.  
“Let us hope that the people of Corona realize that soon enough,” Imonje replied in a serious tone.  
“That is why I worry.”  
Imonje stared at her thoughtfully for several moments before he gave her a brief nod. He might tease her at times about her tendency to worry, but he was also able to recognize that her concerns were well-founded, given the time she and their son had lived in Corona. She'd had quite a few restless nights since her son and sister-in-law had left the Islands to embark on their conquest of Atyamai's greatest, and oldest enemy.  
It was times like this that she was glad for the gift of Black magic, even though she herself did not possess it. The most speedily-delivered letter would take at least a week to make it across from the mainland, but two Black mages could communicate almost instantaneously, which was what Imonje had been doing before he came to sit down for tea.  
“Perhaps I need to take your mind off these worries, hmm?” Imonje asked, his sober gaze melting away to a playful twinkle in his dark eyes.  
“Shameless old lech,” Hauane mock scolded. She had to struggle to keep the grin that threatened to break out on her face.  
“I made you smile, didn't I?”

o0o

Sialen strode through the hall with calm confidence. It'd been four days since the fall of Corona, and the former Princess could hardly complain about her new circumstances. The loss of her royal title was of absolutely no consequence, as it had afforded her little in the past but a roof over her head, food to eat, and dresses to wear. All of high quality, of course, but there hadn't been much else.  
She did not doubt that there was gossip around her amongst the Coronan nobility due to the fact that she walked around freely while the rest of her family were not afforded the same privilege. It was no secret that she enjoyed Prince Kuoji's favor, though there were none who had the temerity – especially under the new rulers – to openly accuse her of misbehavior.  
The crest of the Tekura offered a stark contrast to the sunlit room, where the chamber had been designed to take full advantage of sunlight. Amidst the golden rays of sun, the black hand loomed, almost forbiddingly, multiple hands seeming to caution their viewers to not venture into the light.  
Azami had replaced the cushion on the Corona throne for a thinner, firmer one. It was her eventual plan to have the throne changed out to something more befitting of her tastes, but she understood that leaving it as it was for the time being would have a psychological effect on her new subjects. Not once in Coronan history had a woman ever been permitted to sit upon the throne, and for a female to successfully wrest it from a man was something that many Coronan men, and even women, found difficult to contemplate.  
Sialen bowed to Azami as she paused before the throne, uttering a morning greeting in Atyamainese, her first time doing so. Azami regarded her with the slightest nod of approval, returning the greeting. Kuoji regarded her with a faint but warm smile of approval as she went to his side.  
“You learn quickly. I know I told you that you were expected to learn Atyamainese, but I wasn't going to start lessons until we were on the Islands and you were settled in.”  
“A lady must make use of her time in an efficient manner,” Sialen replied, quoting one of the many proverbs assigned to Coronan women to guide their behavior, “And I do believe that learning a new language is a better use of my time than needlework or memorizing poetry.”  
“You will do well. Keep on like that, and it will be said that you have the face of a Coronan but the heart of an Atyamainese.”  
Sialen turned back as she saw a small group of men enter the throne room, and blinked as she recognized the sigil of Fiori emblazoned across the breastplate of the guards surrounding the nobleman who was here for an audience with Azami. As the guards moved, Sialen recognized her grandfather.  
Immediately, she knew that things would not go well for Lord Fiori, at least, if her grandfather was the same man she remembered. The old man's eyes scanned the room, looking for friends and peers amongst those he considered lowly.  
“Bachis Fiori. I have been expecting you,” Azami stated in a neutral tone. “I do not doubt that you have things you wish to discuss, so...” She waved her hand, and Sialen saw her grandfather's face twist into a scowl before he calmed his features.  
Bachis Fiori was a misogynist and womanizer. He genuinely believed that women were intellectual inferiors to men. It had been discussed to have Sialen marry her cousin, heir to the lordship of Fiori, but Sialen had found the man so repugnant that she made sure that he knew she would make his life miserable if he tried to press for her hand. To him, his daughters were nothing more than tools to be used to gain him the best alliances and wealth. Having one of his daughters marry the King, the heir to the throne being of Fiori blood, and a princess marrying his grandson would ensure the primacy of that House for at least several generations to come.  
At least, until a dark hand obscured the light of fortune that seemed to shine upon House Fiori. Sialen loosely crossed her arms and lifted one hand to the underside of her chin as she watched what she was certain would be an interesting exchange between the two parties.  
“You can be certain that I have plenty to say to you!” the old man snapped. A couple of Atyamai guards stepped forward, but Azami waved them back. Bachis continued, seemingly having not noticed Azami's generosity.  
“You think you can just come here, and declare yourself lord of this proud land! You insert yourself in affairs that are not your own, and act as recklessly as a child knocking down other' toys!”  
Sialen had to hold back a snort at this unwieldy comparison. Bachis' eyes flicked over to Lord Starsmore before he returned his attention to Azami. “Women do not belong on the throne, and for good reason! Get off it now, and the Heavenly Father may forgive you your error!” He crossed his arms, the perfect image of a haughty lord who expected the recipient of his command to follow said command without hesitation.  
Azami leaned slightly to one side, propping her chin on her elbow as if she was merely observing a person delivering a monotonous and inconsequential monologue.  
“Is there anything else you wish to say?” Azami responded coolly. Bachis' scowl deepened further, something that Sialen had been fairly certain was not possible.  
“Your insolence is appalling, and most unladylike! Men and women have their roles in this world, and to not follow these roles leads to chaos!”  
The hall was silence, Atyamainese and Coronan alike observing this outburst, and waiting for what would happen next. Sialen's eyes moved along the room, and for a moment, she met Lord Starsmore's gaze across the chamber, near the throne. He regarded her with the faintest of shrugs, lightly drumming a couple of fingers on his chin.  
“I have permitted you to speak your feelings, because I would not be a fair ruler if I did not listen to my subjects. However, I will not tolerate disrespect,” Azami responded. “The ways of your ancestors have been upheld for centuries, but that does not make them correct...”  
“Ha! I will not be lectured on the rightness of my ways by someone who embraces the dark path!”  
Momentarily, Sialen felt warm breath at her ear as she heard Kuoji's voice in a whisper. “You were able to talk some sense into your father the first day we were here. Perhaps you could accomplish such a feat a second time?”  
She turned her head just enough to register Kuoji in her peripheral vision, and raised an eyebrow. “Generally, miracles only happen once. However, I am willing to try.”  
He smiled before glancing over at Azami. The older woman gave a slight wave of her hand, and Kuoji nodded to his companion. Taking a deep breath and several steps, she parted herself from the people that surrounded her, and many pairs of eyes moved towards her.  
“Grandfather, I know this is difficult for you to accept, but I can assure you, it will be even more difficult to not come to terms with the reality of things.” Sialen recalled what she'd learned over the last few days.  
As a woman, Sialen was denied access to certain information. Even as a princess, she was restricted by her gender, and could not simply ask questions about certain matters. The first time she'd asked about military matters, her brother had laughed at her and mocked her ruthlessly. Solan was of course not the only male who would treat a woman in such a way if she was considered to be 'stepping out of her place' and 'trying to put things in her brain that did not belong there'. There was only so much information she could glean from official announcements, or snippets of conversations that she happened to overhear.  
Kuoji on the other hand, was a veritable fount of knowledge. It even seemed to delight him to answer her questions during their walks in the garden, and she'd gained a much clearer picture of just how Atyamai was able to conquer Corona. Atyamai had the alliance of nearly every other country that had bordered Corona, such partnerships cemented with the gift of lands and the promise of continued self-governance. Under siege from all sides, and with its own military not as well-funded as it needed to be, how could the once-mighty kingdom of Corona not come to its end?  
“Corona has come to an end. Everything comes to an end, some sooner than others. Such is the natural order of things, and should you be at peace with that, you will be able to live in peace.” She stared into her grandfather's eyes, flinty green-blue and filled with loathing and prejudice.  
“And what is peace for you?” Bachis snapped back, a bit of spittle flicking from his mouth. “Peace is letting him...” He pointed a finger at Kuoji,”bed you? You would have that bastard over my gtandson? You are a disgrace to your ancestors and the Heavenly Father! I always knew something was wrong with you, but I could not guess at the depths of your depravity! You whore!”  
Sialen didn't really expect anything else from her grandfather, but a part of her still hoped that he might have enough intelligence to grasp the situation. So much for that…  
The room had become silent, even those who did not have a grasp of the Coronan language seemed to understand the inflection of Bachis' words.  
Someone swept past her, and it was not until this person struck Bachis across the face with the flat side of his sword did she realize that it was Kuoji. One of the Fiori guards stepped forward, but another grabbed his arm, shaking his head. The first man glanced from the prostrate old man to Kuoji and then around the room, before he heeded his comrade's unspoken warning.  
“Corona no longer exists. This is now Atyamai, and as such, it is our customs and laws that take precedence over yours. To insult a person's honor and to make false allegations upon said virtue is gravely frowned upon in Atyamai.” Kuoji uttered in a clear, steady tone. “To make such statements is a stain upon the honor of the accuser. But then, what would you know of honor? The Coronan notion of what constitutes virtue is downright laughable!”  
Bachis glared at Kuoji as he struggled to stand upright, having been dropped to a knee with the force of the Prince's blow.  
“Had you submitted to us, you would have been allowed to keep your holdings and lived in peace, but your own ignorance and spite has rendered that forfeit.” Kuoji glanced towards her. “I declare that as a direct descendant of House Fiori, you are now holder of all the privilege and wealth that comes with being the head of House Fiori.”  
Sialen was able to keep herself calm, while inwardly reeling with shock and confusion. She was to live in Atyamai, that much had been made clear. How was she supposed to effectively manage, and maintain…  
Kuoji winked at her before guiding her back to the side. Already the royal scribes were penning this pronouncement, just as they did for anything else that Azami or her nephew might declare.  
“Take him to the dungeon,” Azami stated with an imperious wave of her hand.  
“What about us?” one of Bachis' guards asked nervously.  
“Go home,” Azami replied with a cool shrug.

o0o

Being a prince came with its privileges, but there were plenty of obligations to attend to. It was not until after supper that he was able to have some quiet time with Sialen. Though the Atyamainese did not have such a narrow sense of propriety as the Coronans did, Kuoji was still careful to consider the circumstances in which he and Sialen were together. The garden provided ample privacy for conversation, but was still an open enough area that even other Atyamainese couldn't accuse the pair of doing anything that might be deemed salacious.  
“So. This matter about my grandfather...” Sialen ventured. He turned to face her, noting how the limited moonlight made her hair look like spun silver.  
“I wanted to see his reaction when I bequeathed his power to you,” Kuoji replied with an unrepentant grin. “What was it about his grandson?”  
“Oh, that. A few years ago, there was discussion of a marriage between me and my cousin.”  
“Ahh.” it was not uncommon in Atyamai for cousins to marry one another, to strengthen the position of both families involved. “I take it you drove him off.”  
She smiled a little, folding her hands together in front of her, presenting the image of a demure lady, the dark color of her dress highlighting the paleness of her hands. “Indeed. He was almost as bad as the old man, and I… was none too subtle in telling him that I would make his life a personal hell if he thought he could bend me to his will.”  
“I am sure he was not the only man that you made such… insinuations to.”  
“I had to be firmer with the nuns, but they received the same understanding.”  
He gave out a small chuckle. Nuns? Not that that should surprise him. Sending a daughter or sister, especially one who was not so willing to conform to Coronan sensibilities, to a convent was a widely accepted solution. “How fortunate. The stodgy robes would suit you poorly,” Kuoji commented.  
“The robes would have been the least of my worries.”  
“I do not doubt that.” Kuoji paused as a sober thought came to him. Given Sialen's refusal to conform to many Coronan norms, he did not doubt that Helin, sooner or later, would have found a way to deal with his daughter. One day, Helin would have forced Sialen into marriage or a convent… or taken far more drastic measures.  
“Still, what am I to do with my newfound wealth?” Sialen asked.  
“Do with it as you please.”  
“Really?” Though she remained calm, he detected the note of surprise in her tone.  
“Why should that be so surprising? I know the Atyamainese have not been here that long, but you certainly seem to be accepting of our ways.”  
“As you have just pointed out, you have not been here for long. I grew up in a culture where every day, I was discriminated in some way simply for my sex.”  
Kuoji felt a wince tug at his face. He understood all too well how it felt to be discriminated for something he had no control over.  
“I was born and raised in Corona. Being half Atyamainese was not a very good… condition to be in, either.”  
“No. Oh, of course.” She looked down at her hands. Kuoji stared at her for a couple of moments, debating his next course of action. He found it difficult to resist the temptation to touch or kiss her, especially during their walks, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that the respect she regarded him with meant that she mirrored the depth of his feelings.  
His hands reached out to touch her upper arms, grasping them gently. She stiffened, but to his relief, did not pull away. His hands almost trembled as he registered her flesh under his palms.  
“I understand that it can be overwhelming, despite your best efforts to… adapt. Everything you've known changes. Your position is suddenly elevated, but you're so used to being treated as something far less that it surprises you when something that has been an obstacle to you is… no longer such.”  
She inhaled slowly before nodding. “Yes. That's it. Not just for me, but for others here. Although I do not doubt that many men are unhappy as well.”  
“There is that,” he acknowledged. “However, at least some of these men will realize that this is better for them.”  
She gave out a small snort. “Really? Why would someone enjoy their loss of power and privilege? According to your laws, brothers now have to share their inheritance with their sisters. A husband no longer has the right to beat his wife or children as he chooses, or dictate what they may do. Many teachers will be resentful of having female students, and you know that many Coronans will be resentful of women who have more talent and intelligence than them, now that it is legal for women to be educated or employed in the same manner as males.”  
“The Coronan way of thinking oppresses many men in its own way.”  
“How is that possible?” Sialen asked incredulously as she eased herself from his hands. He drew them back as he looked down at her.  
“Since women were banned from most occupations, the burden of supporting one's family rests on the man's shoulders. If a man is ill and unable to work, his wife or other female relatives have little means to bring money into the household. They could sew, or cook, or do laundry, but these jobs pay rather poorly compared to that of say, a blacksmith, carpenter, or merchant, occupations which, according to the Heavenly Father, are fit for men only. It was very difficult for my mother to support us. A woman who becomes a servant in another household risks sexual harassment and abuse from her employers, and you know what can happen from that.” Kuoji remembered, with more than a bit of bitterness, how his mother had went into employ as a maid, and the master of the household had tried to force himself on her. Of course, rejecting his advances had cost her her job.  
“Not only that, but I remember very well how a Coronan man is not ever supposed to be seen crying, or showing emotions. Discouraging softness or kindness only fosters selfishness and cruelty.”  
“I hadn't thought about that… but yes. You are absolutely correct.” She raised an eyebrow. “So it is permissible for an Atyamainese man to weep?”  
He smiled at that. “As a whole, emotions and softness are still seen as… feminine traits, though not strictly so. It would be considered a disgrace to mock a man who weeps at the death of a family member or friend. Kindness shown towards an animal, or a child, is seen as a manifestation of a good heart, not a weak one. I have a friend who took in a litter of orphan kittens after it seemed apparent that their mother was either dead or had abandoned them. He carried them home in his jacket, and fed them goat milk and mashed-up fish. He would be horrified at your brother. So would most other people I am acquainted with.” Both of them remembered all too well Solan 'adopting' a pregnant kitchen cat, and what he'd done to the kittens once they'd been birthed.  
Kuoji was silent for several moments as he looked down at her. “Be frank with me, Sialen. Would you rather remain here than going to Atyamai with me?”  
“I… I do not know.”  
He was relieved that she, at least, did not automatically reject the idea of life in Atyamai.  
“I have already made my assurances about your safety and well-being in Atyamai. Is there anything else I can say or do?” he asked gently.  
“No.”  
Well. He wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or concerned. He sensed that the conversation, at least for the time being, had come to its natural end, yet he was not eager to be parted from her so soon. Being in her presence was more satisfying than any of the dreams he'd had of her during their years apart, yet he yearned for more.  
Reaching out to her, he gently pulled her into his embrace. It was the most physical contact he'd had with her since he'd pulled her out of the river so long ago. She stiffened, and he rested one hand on her back between her shoulders. The scent of freesia filled his nostrils as he lightly rested the side of his chin against her temple.  
His body was quick to respond to the very closeness of the woman he desired, and it took what seemed like an inhuman amount of self-control to keep the stirrings of lust contained, focusing on the warm knot in the pit of his stomach. His loins stirred, and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and sending his rebellious body a firm command.  
Sialen's hands remained in front of her, lightly pressing against his stomach. His embrace tightened, and for several delicious moments, he imagined carrying her off to his bed and revealing to her the depths of his admiration for her. At the very least, he longed to taste of these soft, pink lips. As if she sensed his thoughts, he felt her shiver a little.  
Reluctantly, his arms slid away from her. She was looking down at the ground, and he touched her chin, feeling resistance as he angled her face so he could see it. Having long since adjusted to the semidarkness of the garden, he was stunned to see her eyes glisten with unshed tears.  
“Sialen… are you well?” he asked. She blinked rapidly and took a step back, turning her face from his view.  
“I… I am tired.” she whispered.  
“Sialen.” He took a step towards her.  
“It is time for me to retire. Good night, Prince Kuoji.” His name and title were uttered with formality. As she retreated, he was tempted to go after her, to take her into his arms again and reassure her that she need not fear him. Managing to rein in these urges because he did not want her to feel like he would press himself upon her, he watched her go.  
“Sweet dreams, my princess,” he whispered.

o0o

Feedback is the kindest thing you can give an author after you enjoyed their story. I am always striving to improve my craft.


	5. V

Moonshadows

V

o0o

Sialen made her way along the walkway that surrounded the side courtyard, where Kuoji sparred with several of his soldiers. This walkway was elevated two stories above the space, so that observers remained in relative distance and safety, as well as a certain amount of privacy,  
Other men surrounded the sparring pair, some of them engaged in casual activity like mending a boot or having water or tea. The Prince's skill was rather evident to her, since she'd been here for almost half an hour, watching several matches. She'd chosen a discreet spot, placing her almost at Kuoji's back, the shade affording her a cool and comfortable place.  
Before, she wouldn't have been allowed to linger here, especially if it was simple sparring like this, instead of an official tournament. However, when she paused here, Sana made no comment. Her attendant had remained silent thus far, apparently watching the happenings below with apparent interest.  
She admired the grace of the soldiers, not simply the Prince. Both men moved with obvious skill, wielding sheathed swords. Kuoji was clad in a pair of loose gray pants and a short, thin black robe, and most of the men were clad in similar fashion in varying muted shades.  
The sun rose higher into the sky, and Kuoji paused to remove his robe, revealing a bare torso. Sialen became aware of quickening pulse, and swallowed thickly. His hair was tied back in a loose topknot, and during his fighting, he turned several times, affording her glimpses of his chest. He truly was a fine specimen of male, and Sialen leaned against the pillar as she continued to watch silently.  
One thing she'd come to notice was that several men in the Atyamainese army here were half-Atyamainese themselves. Sometimes the lighter color of their hair gave them away, or the color or shape of their eyes. There seemed to be little regard for this by their full-blooded Atyamainese counterparts. Several men stepped aside as a very distinctly non-Atyamainese man stepped to the edge of the loose crowd. When Kuoji completed his sparring, he turned to acknowledge the man. Sialen did not recognize the man, but she was able to identify the crest the man wore on his tunic. It was a peacock of deep teal with golden accents, set amidst a burnt yellow-orange field.  
It was the crest of the royal family of Viruch. Apparently this was either a member of the family, likely a prince or nephew, or a high-ranking agent.  
A smile broke out on Kuoji's face, and it became quickly apparent that these two men were friends. They clasped one another's arms before the Viruchid slapped Kuoji on his shoulder.  
“Prince Eman of the Eiviz ruling family of Viruch. Son of a cousin of the King,” Sialen heard Sana instruct her, confirming her guess. Eman was a couple of centimeters taller than Kuoji, and had what most would call a swarthy complexion, his hair black and curly. He had a broad face, with dark brown eyes.  
The Tekuras had arranged with the Eivizes to have Eman rule the Gray Reaches, as a way for the Eivizes to have a more unified rule over the kingdom and its newest addition. According to Kuoji, there was also talk of setting up a marriage between Eman and one of the women in the Tekura clan, such as a niece or cousin of the Emperor. Sialen gave a brief nod of acknowledgment at her companion's words and watched as the two princes conversed.

o0o

Kuoji wasn't quite fluent in Viruchid, but he had mastered enough of the language to hold a regular conversation with a Viruchid, though certain jokes and puns so far remained beyond his grasp. It'd been a while since he'd spoken the language, and he didn't doubt that his friend would be quick to refresh his command of the language.  
“I had always hoped that I might enter the famed Palace of the Sun as an honored guest. And here I am,” Eman said with a broad grin.  
“Is the Palace as you expected?” Kuoji asked casually. The Palace was indeed impressive from a distance, and a sight he'd only witnessed twice in his life. The interior, however, told a long tale of successive rulers and dynasties, down to antiquity. Many of the more out-of-the-way structures were old, as well as the original rooms of rough-hewn stone that were now used to store royal treasures. Go down into the cellars, offices, and dungeons, and one could feel the age within the walls, as if they'd absorbed the histories of their previous occupants.  
Around and above the legacy of its first dynasty was added the veneer of successive rulers, expanding upon the palace, bringing it to its current majesty.  
“The Palace certainly is fitting of its name, but it is lacking in the charms of Viruchid architecture,” Eman replied with a shrug. Kuoji gave an easy laugh.  
“Viruchid architecture certainly is very pleasing, but none is quite as elegant as Atyamainese architecture,” Kuoji shot back.  
“Hah!” Eman gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Your aunt is looking well. My uncle's offer still stands.”  
“Have you told her that?” Kuoji asked, strolling over to one side and sitting down on a stool that was reserved for him. Two other men moved into the space he'd just occupied with Eman, and started sparring.  
“No. I'm wise enough to leave such an endeavor to you,” the Viruchid replied.  
Kuoji smirked faintly at that. “Azami enjoys her independence too much, and she is not about to share her throne.” As progressive as the Atyamainese were, certain conventions were harder to shake, especially with Viruch being a more male-dominated society than Atyamai. Eman's uncle, the fourth brother of the Viruchid King, would expect control in Azami's administration of Atyamai's newest province, and the strong-minded princess of the Tekura Clan would never abide that.  
“Just as well. It would seem you have an admirer,” Eman said as he glanced upward. Kuoji followed his stare to see Sialen and Sana overlooking them. Sana was speaking, and Sialen nodded several times.  
“That is Lady Sialen.” He placed a slight emphasis on the word lady, to make it clear that the former Princess was not a mere trophy or prisoner.  
“You have fine taste in women.”  
“Heh.” He glanced upward again. Sialen had her hair pulled back in a simple braid, and wore an overdress of deep rose and a under-dress of black. The sound of clashing weapons filled his ears as his gaze lingered on the gap in the stone as he regarded the woman he loved.

o0o

Sialen made her way to the dungeon, feeling trepidation because she did not have Kuoji to accompany her this time. However, when she approached the well-guarded door to the dungeon, they bowed to her and moved aside, admitting her and Sana as quickly as if she had been a Prince or Princess of the Tekura.  
It'd been nearly a week since she'd seen her family. She believed Kuoji when he said they were fed and kept in adequate conditions, and after the abusive language her family had heaped upon her before, she was not so quick to pay them another visit. Hopefully,, several days would have given her family a long-overdue lesson in humility.  
Previously, she or any other woman would not have been allowed to come down to the subterranean levels without permission of the King. The cool subterranean passageways had their charm, Sialen mused. She loved history, and here was her chance to witness some physical evidence of it. The lamps gave the sunless spaces a peaceful ambiance, even if some might find the shadows in the corners unsettling.  
It was just as Kuoji had said, Sialen noted as she observed the evidence of adequate meals. Selestia and Stella had stacked their empty dishes and utensils in a somewhat neat pile on their trays. A stain on the opposite wall revealed where Helin or Solan had thrown some soup or wine, since it hadn't been there previously.  
“Sialen!” It was her mother, and Sialen turned towards her mother's cell. Each person in the family had been assigned their own cell, and she didn't doubt how much it must chafe her father and brother's ego to be so restricted.  
The former Queen was clad in a plain dress, one of few that Azami saw fit for her to have, along with the appropriate underthings. The rest of the family had been afforded similar treatment, along with a couple of blankets each, and three modest-sized meals a day. She knew that if the situation was reversed, the Atyamainese royalty would not have been treated so well as prisoners of an egotistical and petty king.  
“Good afternoon, Mother,” Sialen said politely. She was determined to try to start this reunion on the best note she could, and to be numb to any abusive language she might receive. “How have you been? I trust you are well,” she continued, purposefully using courtesies a Coronan lady was expected to use. The art of small talk was never one Sialen was good at, but she at least remembered the rote phrases.  
“I am the first one to address,” she heard Helin intone sharply from behind her. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the man who had sired her.  
“Need I remind you, Father, that Coronan laws and mores no longer apply. This is a province of the Atyamai Empire, and we are subject to its laws. You are but a commoner in this new order.” This was delivered in an icy tone that Sialen reveled in using.  
“The Heavenly Father will mete his justice in time. The Atyamai will swell with pride before their inevitable fall!”  
“It's the Heavenly Father and his followers that grew so high and mighty that their fall could be nothing but spectacular. Now, can we set talk of the Heavenly Father aside? I did not come down here to argue with you.”  
“The dutiful and loyal daughter checking after the welfare of her family? So nice to know that at least one of our values actually got through your foolish stubbornness.”  
“Believe it, the Atyamainese value family, as well. Only in their families, fathers are not allowed to be tyrants.”  
“But of course. Their darkness twists their minds and souls. They wouldn't know the proper way to raise a family and rule a kingdom?”  
Sialen took a deep breath. “Then explain to me, how if you were the better ruler, you reside in the same place where condemned men await their doom.” Seeing the flicker of fear in her father's eyes suffused her with no small amount of satisfaction. “The victory of the Tekura is complete. Viruch and Dakul are joined with Atyamai. Only remember that if you had been a kinder ruler, you might still sit upon your throne.”  
“The Heavenly Father will smite you for your words!” she heard her grandfather say. She turned around again.  
“I don't believe in the Heavenly Father. I haven't, not for a long time. I do not fear your imaginary friend or his wrath.”  
She might have as well kicked a hornet's nest, for all the fury that buzzed up within the former Lord Fiori. He broke out into an almost unintelligible string of gibberish, spittle flying from his sour, wrinkled mouth. Turning her back to him, she faced her sister. Out of the entire family, Stella seemed like she might be most receptive to a peaceful acceptance of her circumstances.  
“It's not bad at all, Stella,” Sialen pointed out kindly as she approached the bars of her sister's chamber. “The stories you've heard about the Atyamainese are just that, stories.”  
Stella stared back at her doubtfully.  
“Why would I tell you this if I was lying? You're my sister, and I honestly believe you'd be happier outside of that cell. Do I look ill-treated?” she asked, holding out her arms. Stella continued to stare at her, now fiddling with the end of her braid, a habit Sialen recognized as signaling her nervousness.  
“Stella, remember the Dark One offers temptation,” Selestia admonished. Sialen stared at her mother. The Dark One was the antithesis of the Heavenly Father, and it was believed to be the deity that the Atyamainese worshiped, thus adding to their perceived depravity in the eyes of the Heavenly Father and his followers. Sialen couldn't be too surprised at her mother's comment, but she still felt a pang of hurt.  
“Believe what you want, Mother. Your mind is closed to learning, as are many others. I can assure you, blinding yourself to the inevitable does you no good. Pray if that will make you feel better, but there is something I learned from the Atyamai. It is karma, the belief that what goes around, eventually comes around. Your actions, and those of your predecessors and many others, have caused much suffering and inequity. On and on you accumulated bad karma, and now its very weight crushes you.” She turned to look at Solan, who had stared at her in baleful silence during the entire meeting.  
“It is normally frowned upon to take pleasure in the suffering of others. However, for all I have suffered at your hands, I believe I've earned enough good karma to have a laugh or two at your expense, brother dear.” Delivered in an again icy tone, the utterance nonetheless deepened Solan's scowl and fueled the heat of his rage and resentment. Denied all of his usual pleasures, Solan was restless.  
“You will pay for your betrayal,” Solan promised. “I will be free, and I will get my hands on you, and put you in a woman's place, and ensure that you never leave it.”  
Sialen turned to Sana. “I do not wish to overstep my bounds, but if I had a… request for an adjustment in accommodations down here, would it be considered?”  
Sana quickly turned to the guard accompanying them and repeated the question in rapid Atyamainese. She received a reply that to Sialen's relief, didn't seem to be in the negative.  
“The Lady and Lord Tekura have final say in how they are treated, but Lord Tekura has left a command that if you are angry with them, you may suggest a punishment.”  
Sialen met her brother and father's eyes for a moment each, feeling a small rush through her head as she realized the implications. For the very first time in her life, she had some real control in how her father and brother were treated.  
“What if I asked for Solan to have all his men's clothing removed from his cell, and be replaced with women's garments?” she asked. Sana let out a brief giggle before she translated. The guard let out a guffaw and nodded.  
“You will pay for that abomination!” Bachis yelled.  
“What about taking away of food?” she asked. Sana translated, and the guard nodded. “How have they behaved themselves? It looks like food was thrown at the wall at least once.”  
The guard replied, and Sialen waited patiently as he paused here and there to allow Sana to interpret, “Solan has been most foul tempered at times. He will yell at us, but we do not speak his language. He tried to sexually assault the maid sent down here to bring food and take away the empty dishes. Bachis would rant as well, shaking his fist at the guards as they walked by. Selestia would yell at them as well, though to a significantly lesser degree than the men. Helin would pray loudly in his cell, asking the Heavenly Father to smite the Atyamai, while listing all sorts of lurid scenarios he deemed suitable for said punishment.  
“Are the Lady and Lord Tekura certain they want to keep these prisoners?” Sialen half-joked. She took a deep breath before looking back at her family. “Stella… please think about what I said, all right? I'll come back and visit you if you want. I could even bring some books for you, or something else that would comfort you. Please believe me when I say these circumstances were inevitable with Father's actions, but there is no need for you to become a victim of them.”  
She glared at the male members of their family. The Heavenly Father was supposed to be the embodiment of wisdom. But then, he also represented the male ego, and was the unchallenged ruler of the universe, according to the Way of the Light.”Give the men water to drink, but cut one day's worth of meals. Hopefully it'll put them in a mood that is more receptive to wisdom.”  
She did not doubt that the men would attempt to cajole the food from the women when Selestia and Stella were served their evening meal.  
“Curse the day that you met Lucas!” she heard her father snarl. “I should have had him killed all these years ago!”  
“Do you think that's a wise thing to say in front of men of Atyamai?” Sialen asked with a sidelong glance before she slid down the chamber, ignoring her grandfather's shouts.  
Instead of exiting the catacombs so quickly. Sialen took her time to leisurely stroll through the passageways, perusing casks of wine, wheels of cheese, fruit and vegetable preserves, and dried meat. The first rulers of this land had built a two-story fortress, and in time, underground tunnels were dug, expanded, and lined and reinforced, slightly smoother stones and bricks along the middle of some of the hallways showing evidence of innumerable footsteps.  
It was ironic that she had the chance to explore the Palace fully only when she was on the verge of leaving this place for what was probably the rest of her life in a foreign land. Yet even as her father cursed the day that Kuoji entered her lives, Sialen wondered the very day was meant to happen.

o0o

A Decade Ago

Sialen gasped and spat out a mouthful of water as she felt a strong arm wrap around her and pull her to the safety of the other bank, where she was efficiently hefted onto the grass nearly ten meters from where she'd been pushed into the water by her brother. Fortunately, she hadn't actually inhaled any water, so she only coughed and spat a bit as she tried to straighten herself. Her dress clung to her body, and though it was cool in the shade, Sialen did not shiver in the damp garments.  
“Mother!” she heard the person who'd rescued her call out. She turned her head to catch sight of a boy who looked to be Solan's age, or a bit younger. His eyes were a dark emerald-green, set amidst a facial feature that was unique to the Atyamai – the epicanthic fold that lent to the 'almond' eye shape. His hair was as black as a raven's wing, his skin lightly tanned. She had barely processed all of this to ask the boy who he was or comment on his features when she saw a woman rush toward them.  
“Come, come. You can sit by the fire and I have a blanket for you to wrap yourself in while your clothes dry,” the woman said. She had the green eyes of the boy, if a couple of shades lighter, so Sialen assumed this was the boy's mother. She let herself be ushered into the woods, the fire she could see between the trunks from her vantage on the bank.  
“Lucas, fetch more wood. And be sure to avert your eyes when I tell you to!” the woman said firmly as she pointed Lucas in one direction and stood Sialen behind the cauldron at the other side.  
“I will hang your dress to dry. It is not healthy to go about in cold and damp clothing. How on earth did you end up n the water, anyway?” the woman fussed as she helped Sialen out of the dress that was even more cumbersome when it was wet.  
“My brother pushed me in,” Sialen commented. The woman did not ask her to remove her underwear, not that Sialen would have done so if asked to. As promised, a blanket was draped across her shoulders as the woman hung her dress as neatly as she could from a lower-hanging branch.  
“And why would he do such a thing?”  
“Because he wanted my tarts, and I wouldn't give them to him. He only wanted them because I had them, he doesn't even like blueberry!”  
“Yes, boys can be stupid that way,” the woman commiserated with her as she tucked the blanket under Sialen's chin.  
“Then he said that when I was old enough he would marry me off to an Atyamainese man. He said they had small organs so I said that he had a small one, too, and that's when he pushed me in.”  
“… Oh, dear,” the woman replied with a rueful chuckle. Sialen paused as she realized that this woman might know about Atyamainese men firsthand, if Lucas was indeed her son… Sialen recalled all the nasty things she'd heard about Atyamai, but that boy had rescued her and he was obedient and considerate to his mother. “Well, why don't we do introductions? You've seen my son, Lucas. I'm Amyra. And who are you?”  
“Sialen.”  
Amyra stilled for several moments, her eyes widening. “...Princess Sialen?”  
“Yes.”  
The woman bowed. “Please forgive me, your majesty!”  
“There is nothing to forgive,” Sialen replied, feeling a little confused. “Your son has my gratitude.”  
The sound of rustling branches drew their attention, Lucas carrying pieces of wood of various sizes in his arms. He and his mother were dressed in the garb of peasants, and even though Lucas had Atyamainese heritage in him, there was a quiet handsomeness to his features that the Princess found appealing.  
Lucas set the wood down near the fire and glanced at Sialen. She met his eyes boldly, and he blinked but stared back at her.  
“Thank you,” Sialen said.  
“Pardon?” Lucas asked.  
“For pulling me out of the water, thank you.”  
He blinked again before a small smile spread to his lips. “You are most welcome, my lady.” He paused before he looked at his mother. “Do we have food to share?” he asked.  
Amyra hesitated for a moment and nodded before getting a bag, unwrapping it to reveal bread, cheese, and several apples.  
“You don't need to feed me. I'm not hungry,” Sialen said quickly, not wishing to take away what little provisions this family had, especially when she had no need to worry about where her own next meal would come from. “You have done more than enough.” She would make sure they got a reward… though would her father want to reward a child who was half-Atyamainese?  
She was about to ask what was in the cauldron, when she heard her name being called by a servant.

o0o

Lucas stood with his mother before the King and Queen. He kept his head bowed, his eyes averted to the ground, trying to downplay the fact that he was half-Atyamainese as possible. Being thanked by a Princess had been an unexpected delight, and now it seemed as if the price to pay for it was steep. He knew that the royal summer resort was across the river, but he had never had any reason to think he might come across a member of the royal family, for who would allow him onto the grounds?  
He felt his mother's hand lightly squeeze his shoulder. He could see the hem of Sialen's skirt, mint-green with a border of lace.  
“The Heavenly Father commands that we help those in need, especially women, because of their weakness,” Lucas stated, tempted to meet the King's eyes with his own.  
“Hnh.” Helin snorted softly. “So you know the Way of the Light?”  
“How could I not? My mother is Coronan, and determined to raise me the right way,” Lucas stated, carrying his tone with a deference he did not feel.  
“The Heavenly Father does remind us to show mercy to those who strive towards the Light,” Selestia said gently. “This woman could be a good servant...” the Queen regarded Amyra, “You make dyes, do you not?”  
“Yes, your Majesty. I also wash and mend clothes, and when I have the opportunity, fine embroidery.”  
“I have need for such a servant in my retinue. Irma is old and getting blind, and she has no daughter or granddaughter to replace her.”  
Kuoji could feel his mother's hand tense at this, though Amyra remained outwardly calm.  
“I would be honored to serve you, but I must take my son into consideration. A mother's duty is to her family, and I have raised Lucas to the best of my abilities. He is a hard worker,” Amyra explained.  
“Father, this would be the perfect chance for you to demonstrate the Heavenly Father's power to cleanse those with his Light. He might be half Atyamainese, but he is also half Coronan. For him to lead a proper life would show that even these with Atyamainese blood in them can walk the path of light. Perhaps Heavenly Father sent him our way for that reason,”: he heard Sialen say.  
Lucas took a deep breath. This could be an incredible opportunity for him, or a new hell.  
“Does he have any magic?” Helin asked. Lucas tensed before he nodded.  
“What kind?”  
“Just a touch of Fire, your Highness.”  
“That is a useful skill to have. Very well, you can come work in the Palace within a suitable occupation. However, understand this. With this opportunity for you and your mother, I expect that we are even. Do not think that you can get away with ant sort of indiscretion, young man!”  
“I would not dream of it, your Highness. I am very grateful for this opportunity, and I hope that I can prove myself worthy of the Heavenly Father.” He bowed.  
Later, he had the chance to see the Princess when he was helping in the kitchen, pulled in as a temporary cook's aide. One benefit of the job was the tasty odds and ends he had the opportunity to sample. Sialen hovered in the doorway to the kitchen until one of the cooks saw her. The cook did not appear surprised, and it became apparent that this was not the first time the Princess would visit the kitchen, especially here at Golden Lake given the slight relaxation of the usual rules.  
Kuoji tentatively approached her, keeping a respectful distance from her, though he longed to pull her close.  
“What I said about you to Father… I didn't mean anything personal by it. It was just...”  
“What he needed to hear,” Lucas said with a shrug. “And I didn't think you were weak. I heard you arguing with your brother and managed to see him shoving you. It was something I could tell would please your father.”  
With the chatter and hustle of the kitchen, Lucas and Sialen managed to have that private conversation, sealing their friendship, and Lucas' commitment to her. She smiled at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. As if aware of his reaction, the Princess blushed ever so faintly before quickly excusing herself from the kitchen.

o0o

Kuoji smiled to himself faintly as he reminisced upon the day that tied his fate to Sialen's. His feet padded the stones in the hallway, longing for the familiarity of his home, in the Imperial Palace nestled securely in the Mother Islands. Not that he could complain overmuch about his temporary home, though.  
Several guards stood watch at key points along the way, regarding him with slight nods as he passed by. Strolling along the walkways, he tilted his chin upward to look at the moon. In Corona, walking about at night, unless you had a job that called for it, was considered to be opening yourself to the darkness,. In Atyamai, sitting out or walking at night was considered a good opportunity for peace, to reflect upon the events of the day, or contemplating the morrow.  
Much of the walkways were built within the rule of the preceding dynasty, though they would then be reconstructed in white marble and whitewashed stone during the Sol dynasty. Under the moonlight, the same material reflected subtle variations in pale gray and blue-white. These walkways were brilliantly illuminated during day, unless covered with canopies, and in certain places, one might even squint, due to so much reflected sunlight.  
He didn't doubt that Azami had some ideas on what she could do to improve this place, though he was certain she would strive to preserve the structure's aura of majesty.  
As he scanned the west side of the Palace, picking out the guards at their posts, he noticed a pale, ghostly figure stride along the other walkway, and for a moment, he thought it was a ghost, with a shadow behind her. Rationality quickly superseded imagination, and he saw that it was Sialen and Sana. He took a slow breath as he watched her.  
Quickly making his way around one walkway and then another, he slowed to a casual pace as he walked towards the pair of women.  
“Good evening, ladies,” Kuoji said with a slight bow of his head. Both women bowed in the proper degree. He'd not been able to have a private moment with her all day, between Prince Eman's visit and several meetings with men of importance. “I didn't expect to see you on my walk, but it certainly is not an unwelcome surprise.”  
“I often wanted to take walks at night, but it wasn't proper fr a lady to be alone at night.”  
“Because the forces of darkness would taint her in various ways,” Kuoji added, remembering this admonition well. Of course, the hypocrisy was beautiful, with many Coronans, especially the higher-born ones, to have whores or mistresses for entertainment, despite the fact that such women were supposed to belong to the night, and therefore, lost souls.  
“Sana however, suggested that I take a walk when I had a hard time sleeping. She explained to me that time alone at the night like this does not mean a person is trying to sneak around. Apparently such peace and quiet help organize one's thoughts?” Sialen asked.  
He gave Sana a brief, approving nod. “Indeed. Some people may choose to sit on a veranda and drink some tea or work on a small project. If there is a courtyard, a stroll is not seen as unusual.”  
“Mmm. That certainly is good to know.” She was clad in a gown of light blue, with a cream-colored coat-dress that served both warmth and modesty. Kuoji raised his hand, waving Sana several paces back, and led Sialen over to the parapet, looking at the main courtyard, the one used to receive important guests. The bleached cobblestone of the courtyard's surface bore a pattern of a sun with wide-reaching rays, in ocher-colored stone, Seen from above, it certainly was an impressive sight.  
“What were you thinking about on your stroll?” Sialen asked lightly.  
“Karma,” the Prince replied lightly.  
“I told my family about it today. They of course dismissed the notion.”  
He shrugged. “Karma works in different ways, sometimes more outright, other times more subtly. It may come too late for one lifetime, but the reward is then a better life. Believe it or not, it is what happens across the world.”  
“So would you say that the Atyamai Empire has good karma?”  
“That belief in karma has guided past Emperors. Instead of trying to wipe out or enslave the people we conquer, we invite them to share our protections and prosperity. People leave the Islands to settle in these new territories, and are encouraged to marry into the local population. We do not try to subvert local cuisine or most other customs. It brings good karma to us and our country, as well as the populations we acquire. The Empire has expanded greatly over the last half millennia. It is not that we have never suffered losses or defeat, but prudence is possibly the most valued trait in Atyamai.”  
“Arrogance against prudence. There can be only one victor.”  
“Victory does not always come easy.”  
“Heh. There is that,” Sialen acknowledged. “Prince Eman seems nice,” she said, in a slightly awkward attempt at polite conversation. He nodded. The other prince had remarked – privately – that Kuoji had gotten himself an admirable trophy. Kuoji couldn't help but cringe a bit at that, though he could see how the situation might look from an outsider's perspective, him being the prince of a conquering country, taking as his companion the princess of the defeated kingdom. It was not the first time in the history of the world such an occurrence, or similar ones, had happened. In most cases the story included the man taking his prize to bed. He tacitly disabused his friend of that notion.  
“He speaks highly of you. Says that seeing you and I is like seeing the moon in the night sky. Viruchid poetry can be florid at times, but I welcome the sentiment and think it suits you.” He'd taken Eman down to the dungeons to see the royal family, partly to satisfy his friend's curiosity, and so that the former Coronan Royal Family had the chance to meet someone important. Helin was coldly polite, disdain burning in his eyes, but his tongue surprisingly well-controlled. Eman for his part was cordial and polite, his face a benign mask of neutrality to counter the hate that practically radiated from Solan.  
“You flatter me, my Prince.”  
“I do not speak idle flattery, my Princess.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “I'm not...”  
“To me, you will always be a princess.”  
The moonlight washed out Sialen's skin with its silvery light, but Kuoji was certain he saw a blush on her cheek.  
“I have decided on a name,” Sialen replied, adeptly changing the subject. “I feel it would be… prudent,” she commented, and he smiled ever so slightly at her use of the word, “to take Lord Starsmore up on his offer of adopting me. Although, I wondered if I should take a different name, like your mother did?”  
“A different name is not necessary, it is tradition for the Emperor or Empress to adopt a new name upon taking their crowns. Your name suits you well. It is very similar to an old word in Atyamainese which means 'moonlight'.”  
“Hm. Very well, then.” She glanced back at the courtyard. He cleared his throat before he spoke.  
“There is a Water Master in my army. I was going to ask him to give you instruction. I would have brought it up before, but he was rather busy then, and we all had plenty to do.”  
“There is much work yet.”  
“True enough, but he will see you tomorrow for an hour or two. Sana will be your interpreter. Since you've been so eager to learn Atyamainese, I thought you would show the same enthusiasm for this.”  
“Most assuredly I do. Thank you.” She did a quick curtsey.  
“It is our custom to bow, but I shall not object to curtsies from my princess,” Kuoji commented. “There is another custom of Corona that I do find charming, at least with the right people.”  
“And what would that be?”  
His hand smoothly slid under hers as it rested on the polished stone of the parapet, and he brought it to his lips, brushing them against the back of her hand and catching a faint scent of something fresh with a hint of lilac. Soap, he presumed.  
“This country may follow Atyamainese laws and customs now, but I believe I will make an exception for you,” he said gently, reluctantly letting her withdraw her hand. “I do believe I have kept you from your walk long enough, it is considered impolite to interrupt someone during their quiet time unless it is important. Do forgive me, my princess.”  
“I shan't tell anyone of your impoliteness,” she replied in a light whisper.  
“Good, I can be assured of an unworried sleep tonight. Sleep well when you do finish your walk. Pleasant dreams.”  
“Thank you. You as well.” She slid past him, and Sana caught up to her in a few moments. He looked down at his hand, remembering the feel of her own resting in his palm.

o0o

The man in the dark blue robes sat near the wall, watching with half-lidded eyes as others took their seats, arranging their robes and resting their hands in their laps. The angle of the morning sun afforded him increments of shadow as it rose into the sky, and he was grateful to have the sunlight out of his eyes.  
The Emperor and Empress of the illustrious Atyamai Empire sat on their dais, in elaborate but tasteful thrones, dressed in fine Imperial robes as they looked down at their audience.  
Imonje was garbed in black and gray robes with gold threading, and the clothing he had under the elaborate garment was dark red. Hauane's Imperial robe was almost identical, though the embroidery of her own robe showed silver, pink, and green. Her under-dress was of a deep rose hue which brought out the healthy shade in her cheeks and complimenting her emerald-green eyes and honey-blond hair.  
Many Atyamainese men would consider this aemaet – the Atyamainese word for people of non-Atyamai descent to be beautiful by any standard. Some compared her to a doll, though Hauane was much warmer and more personable. It was hard to find people who actively disliked her. Unfortunately, the people who he was closest to felt that while aemaet were not people to be subjugated or abused, they did not belong in such a vaunted role in the Court. It was the first time an aemaet had been Empress, though past Emperors on occasion had such women as concubines. There had been a couple of Empresses of mixed descent, such as an Empress who was the daughter of a powerful Viruchid Earth Master and a cousin of the previous Emperor.  
It was said that Azami had inherited her potent Earth magic from this ancestor, and the Tekura, while often clannish, did not miss the opportunity to mix other powerful bloodlines with their own.  
However, for those who disliked the current Empress, Hauane was not the only subject of their bitterness. Her son, the Emperor's favorite and the current heir apparent, had displaced several in the line of succession when it was discovered that the concubine Imonje had believed dead for so many years was still alive, and had borne him a son.  
Why didn't Imonje just leave the bastard where he was, and pay for his care, and set him up with some nice Atyamainese woman, and grant some land for him to manage? Or at the most, made him a lesser prince and Hauane a concubine. They would have been treated well enough. He kept the scowl from his face as the Emperor and Empress received their first petitioner of the day.  
Now with his victory in Corona, Kuoji would have even more esteem in Imonje's eyes. The golden child. The bastard rescued from over a decade of life in Corona as an oft-maligned 'half-breed'. If there was any doubt before that Kuoji would be the next Emperor, these doubts were essentially blown away.  
The Atyamainese believed their ways to better than the Coronan way. They valued prudence, wisdom, and cleverness. The way they lived was supposed to build better characters and constitutions than the men of Corona, and in many ways, it did. However, he was just a man, and as in any other group, no matter how vaunted they seemed to be, there were always those who felt envy, resentment, and hatred, and welcomed it into their hearts.  
The man set his jaw as he folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes, listening to the petitioner with half an ear as he thought about his plans, and what he would do once he had accomplished his goals.


	6. VI

Moonshadows

VI

o0o

Sialen rose from bed after having laid there for several minutes to stare up at the ceiling, contemplating her existence. After performing her morning ablutions, she opened her armoire to look for something suitable to wear. Her selection was considerably different than it had been a month ago. She'd given away most of her overly frilly, lacy clothing, having no use for the items that Selestia insisted were the garments of a proper, highborn lady. Much of what she had kept was modified in one way or another to better reflect her own tastes.  
A pale green under-dress was adorned with a much darker overdress in indigo. After dressing, she summoned a maid to do her hair, brushing it and pulling it back in a braided bun. Sialen stared at her reflection, and was pleased with what she saw. It was a proper dress for a lady… and a mage. At least, she thought so. Her mind wandered to the forthcoming lesson, and what she already knew about magic.  
Magic was divided into seven realms of two different types – material, and immaterial. There were four material realms – Fire, Earth, Water, and Air – and three immaterial realms that were identified with colors – Black, Gray, and White. White was the provenance for healing magic and purification, hence its association with light. Black on the other hand, manipulated shadows and darkness – inevitably, that magic would be referred to as Black. Gray was the magic that went past the confines of the physical realm, such as dream-walking.  
Magic was relatively uncommon, though not to be so rare that it had to be kept hidden. For some families, magic could tend to bind itself to the bloodline, so that a man who was a Fire Mage could hope that at least one of his children or grandchildren inherited the gift. For others, the gift appeared randomly, often welcomed into families who were then expected to nurture the gift in a positive way.  
There hadn't been any magic in the Oronac bloodline at all for at least several generations. Sialen's magic was an unexpected, and to some, unwelcome power. Her brother was jealous of her, wishing that he had his own magic. Sialen had always been glad he didn't, because she did not doubt that he would find a way to abuse such power. Helin tried to set her on what he deemed a proper path by training her in using Water magic to heal.  
The art of healing was attributed to the Mother, though this mainly consisted of recuperative care, while male doctors and surgeons did the actual treatment. Water magic was not the same as White magic, but could be conductive to healing when applied properly. Women who were gifted with Water magic were generally pushed into this profession if they weren't married off, since it was one of few which was openly accepted for women to have. However, she did not have any aptitude for magic in this capacity, despite her best efforts to follow the teachings of the nurses who'd been her tutors.  
She knew many thought she was simply Touched with magic – the lowest-level and most common of all mages. She certainly couldn't seem to follow the path that was expected of her. Yet, Sialen was certain she could achieve more. She'd studied what she could of the seven ways of magic, hoping to glean some insight from the teachings and viewpoints of practitioners of other magics. The information was interesting, and enabled her to see how other magics worked; each path had its inclinations, and were associated with a certain aspect of the soul and psyche.  
Did Atyamai have the same belief system when it came to magic? If not, perhaps their way would be easier for her to understand.  
She turned to Sana. “I know you're not a mage, but what do you know about magic?”  
“The elements shape our world, magic or not. It just so happens that some people are able to tap into that natural energy. There are also those who can not use magic, but can sense the energy used for magic and can detect when magic is being worked. The typical Atyamainese education covers these elements and their practical application to our lives. Some of our provinces have other beliefs about such matters, and some mix the two.”  
“And this is not a matter of conflict for the Empire?” Sialen asked. There was much to be said about not forcing a captured populace into slavery, but beliefs could be a powerful tool in guiding – or stagnating – a society.  
“Provided that these beliefs cause no harm to others, we find it much easier to focus on enforcement of important laws.” Sana shrugged. “For some, the comfort of keeping what is familiar to them helps them assimilate to Atyamainese rule more easily. Besides, we find that many beliefs share many common cores and traits. Likewise with magic. I do not study the magical arts, but your new teacher should be able to answer any further questions you have. I only know the basic principles.”  
After a quick breakfast, Sana led her charge to the royal garden, where a middle-aged and slightly portly man awaited them. His hair was pulled back in a plain braid, and he had a thick but trimmed beard. His attire had the military austerity she'd noticed among the soldiers of the Atyamai. One of the first things she noticed was his aura. Sensing the magic in someone else's aura was one thing that came easily to Sialen, and with her inner eye, saw shades of cool green and blue flow along his body, faint but perceptible. It was the strongest aura of Water magic she had sensed in a long time.  
The two faced one another and did their respective bows. The man greeted her in Atyamainese, and she responded in kind before adding that it was a pleasure to meet him. He raised his eyebrow slightly before he gave the briefest of nods, perhaps in approval.  
“My lady, this is Mardu Shwato. He has served as a teacher of Water Magic for over a decade now and has trained many of the Water mages in our army.” The Atyamainese woman turned to Mardu, speaking in Atyamainese. Sialen was able to make out some of it, including her new name and title. Lady Sialen Starsmore. As she spoke, Mardu regarded the blonde woman in silence. Finally, Sana stopped. Mardu stroked his heard, and Sialen met his eyes, refusing to flinch. The Sollsxiun notion of modesty for a woman – lowering her eyes after a respectful moment, was something she'd never taken well to. It was a custom she was glad to shrug off, and she maintained her steady gaze as she regarded the man who would be her teacher.  
He spoke, and Sana repeated his words to ensure clarification. “You are not a child, so I will not treat you as such. Tell me what you know of your craft, so I can see where we may best begin our lessons.”  
“I am able to sense water nearby, and have practiced it much. I have done my own study on magic, away from my instructors, and learned the principles of all the other ways of magic. But the most advanced magic is kept in the custody of the Water Masters, so I was denied further education.”  
“I will hide nothing from you, so long as you are willing to learn.”  
The pair stared at one another for a moment before Sialen spoke. “You have but to speak. I am listening.”  
He beckoned to the women, and they followed him to the fountain. Its surface was clear of leaves and other debris, She stood by his side, staring at their reflections in the water.  
“What is water said to represent?” Mardu asked as Sana stood behind the pair, interpreting.  
“Emotion and intuition?” she asked, wondering if the Atyamai held different beliefs about what the elements were tied to. He nodded, and Sialen recalled what Sana had said about shared core beliefs.  
“Each path of magic is tied with a thing that makes us who we are. Each of these things are absolutely essential for who and what we are, and so dark magic is no better or worse than light.”'  
“I expect that you have a more honorable view of dark magic than Sollsxiuns do. What is it that dark magic corresponds to?”  
“Spirituality. Just as Light magic does. They are two aspects of the same force.”  
Sialen could not help but think of Kuoji, and his mastery of Dark magic, and the kind of person he was. Yes. For people who were said to be corrupted for their affiliation with darkness, the Atyamainese had proven themselves to be civil beyond what most could have hoped for from Sollsxiuns had the situation be reversed.  
“And the other ways? Earth is strength, Air is will, Fire is passion?”  
“Air is honor. Honor is as valuable as the air we breathe, to not have it is living a life that means nothing,”  
Well. That was something to ponder. “And gray, that means neutrality?”  
Mardu shook his head. “Compassion.” He paused, with a frown. “No wonder Sollsxiuns were so backward. They do not have a proper understanding of magic.” This seemed more directed at Sana, but the young Atyamainese woman translated it. Sialen was silent for a moment, unsure of whether that comment had been meant as an insult to her. Before she could decide what to do next, Mardu spoke again.  
“I can see that you have made an effort to learn beyond the limits others have set on you. Tell me, how often do you meditate?”  
She raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Meditate?”  
“When you sit quietly and contemplate?”  
“I enjoy doing that, actually. It's not considered proper for a Sollsxiun woman, because it is said that unoccupied hands lead to mischief, especially in women. But I find that being by myself, especially in a place like this, is… peaceful for me. I enjoyed the rare opportunities I got to sit here at this fountain by myself.” If a woman wanted to be alone, she was expected to pray, so that in solitude, her mind would be firmly fixed upon the Way of the Light. More often than not, Sialen had let her mind wander to things that the Heavenly Father was known to disapprove of while appearing to be the picture of piety, her head bowed, hands folded in front of her.  
“In someone with strong magical ability, being near one's element often brings a sense of peace and balance which is conductive to meditation. If the foundation is so pleasant to you, you will enjoy the ocean, though you may find it overwhelming at first. Meditation is also very conductive to one's magic. Is that something you were taught?” he asked.  
“Unfortunately, no.”  
“Well then, I believe that is where we will start our lessons. Take a deep breath...”

o0o

“Lady Starsmore!” Sialen heard one of her maids say. She looked up to see the young woman out of breath, as if she'd just run through the Palace. The lady in question was resting, reclined in a chair as Sana was telling her a traditional Atyamainese children's story. Sana paused her story, and the maid became even more flustered when she realized she'd interrupted something potentially very important. She'd been quick to adapt to the leadership of her new rulers.  
“What is it, Agnes?” Sialen asked, pulling herself up a bit.  
“You have an audience, my lady. I'm sorry, but I could think of no one else better than you to help my cousins. They're here now, but of course, if you're occupied...”  
Sialen glanced at Sana. “Would it be impolite to pause the story and continue it later?” she asked.  
“In some cases, yes. But this seems important, so I will be happy to continue the story of the foolish farmer boy later.”  
“Thank you, my lady! They are in the Mother's Court.”  
As part of the difference in privileges afforded to the genders in Sollsxiu, the justice system had a somewhat informal arrangement for women to minister justice amongst themselves, if the matter was deemed to not be of concern to males. It could be used for discord between sisters, or female friends, or different female members of an extended family, and even female servants.  
The Palace had a spacious room next to a private courtyard also reserved for women. It was here that Selestia, or other senior women would sit with disputers and meditate the issue before coming to a final decision.  
The two women that awaited her had a passing resemblance to Agnes with similar shades of frizzy brown hair, and were ordinary-looking women clad in the usual worker's garb, though it looked like they had made an effort to clean themselves up before coming here. They had on aprons over skirts and plain long-sleeved chemises secured under high-collared bodices.  
“Please state your grievance,” Sialen said, waving her hand. One of the women stepped forward.  
“Our father owned a bakery. He died a month ago, and we have no living brother, so control of the bakery went to our uncle, who insists that we work for him for very little in return, and he is also a drunkard who drinks down the profit from our hard work. Our father raised us in the craft of baking, and our uncle knows next to nothing. We understand that under Atyamainese law, the bakery is ours by right, and so we have come to plead that case.”  
Sialen sat back, pondering. The baker had died before the invasion, yet she did not see any reason why the new laws should not be retroactively applied.  
“You presume correctly,” Sialen said with a brief nod. “Though your father died before the new laws came into effect, I am confident that Azami would agree with me that the new law would benefit the two of you.” She paused, wondering if she had any authority to make such a decree? Azami had never specified that to her. “In the meanwhile, why don't the two of you stay here as my guests?” She would need to summon a scribe and have him draft an announcement and then seal it. The women could then return with an official decree in hand, though Sialen suspected that she might need to send a few guards to help enforce the order.  
A thought came to her, and she turned to Agnes. “How did they come to be here? Surely it is known to petition Azami or Kuoji…”  
Agnes frowned a bit. “It was only chance that I came across them. They said they had been sent to petition to you directly and were looking for the correct person to approach, so I sent them to the Ladies' Court. Did I do wrongly?”  
“No.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. It seemed that these women had been sent to her because she was deemed a suitable judge. After all, she had apparently taken her mother's place in this Mother's Court though she hadn't yet exercised the role. Were they testing her, or was it a gesture of goodwill? Would she receive more petitioners? Now there was a thought.  
“Bring us tea and some food,” Sialen commanded. She would ask these women more about their background, and learn about how different men were reacting to Atyamainese rule.

o0o

Sialen had wasted no opportunity with her guests, asking them about their neighbors and customers to get a better idea of how Sollsxiun commoners were responding to Atyamainese rule. Just as with the nobles, the reactions among the poorer ranks of society were mixed. However, the Tekura had taken an important step to increase their chances of gaining favor among their new subjects.  
The lavish Palace of the Sun, and the lifestyles of the favored nobles, did not come without cost, and it was their social inferiors who had paid that cost. Taxes had been high, especially under the last few rulers. Ostensibly, this money was supposed to be for the betterment of the country, and part of the collected funds did go to necessary projects such as laying bridges and roads, or the army.  
However, much of the money was also wasted on religious works, such as lavish temples and churches, which kept the clergy happy to serve their masters – the ones on earth, at least. The rulers of Sollsxiu were often greedy and selfish, but they were not entirely without intelligence, and recognized the value of religion in keeping the populace under control.  
It was these same temples and churches that gave the Tekura a valuable source of plunder. Gold and jewel-encrusted depictions of the Heavenly Father among other icons, and the personal coffers of the leaders of the clergy, enabled the Tekura to fatten their purses and pay their soldiers. Of course, such actions were bound to elicit outrage in more than a few people, but when the typical farmer or low-level laborer learned that their taxes had been cut to much more reasonable limits, the fact that they were better able to take care of their families made the transition easier. They also celebrated the fact that they no longer had to pay tithes to the clergy, who in many cases were no less susceptible to abuses of power than the nobles.  
Was it really any wonder, Sialen mused, that the Atyamai Empire should be so prosperous? After all, her own lot had improved, and Sialen knew that had someone offered her a chance to become a Princess again, and to have her country restored, she would have sneered in their face.  
“May I speak to you for a moment?” she asked Azami after they'd just finished their evening sup. Azami nodded.  
“Earlier today, two women were sent to me. I am unsure if this was… intentional or not?”  
Azami gave out a wry chuckle. “It was no mistake, Sialen. You have been afforded much privilege here. However, as generous as we can be, we do not give idly, or freely.”  
“So I am to work for my privileges,” Sialen replied. It was an observation, not a complaint. “And my verdict...”  
“It was the one I was hoping for,” came Azami's reply.  
Sialen was silent for a moment, pondering what she could say next. Had listening to these womens' case been an unpleasant experience? Hardly. In fact, she had enjoyed being able to help these women, and she would welcome the opportunity to help others. Finally, she inclined her head in a bow. “It is my honor.”  
Azami bowed back before she turned away to speak with someone else who had just approached her. Sialen stepped back. Feeling a hand on her elbow, she turned to see Kuoji.

o0o

Kuoji welcomed the chance for a quiet evening walk with Sialen after such a long day. There were times on occasion that he could hardly believe he was with his princess. And not only that, but he was in a position to actually have her. Had he never been taken to Atyamai, he was bitterly aware of the fact that Sollsxiun society would never allow him to be with a princess of this prideful land. Had they had a relationship, the only way for it to survive would be if it had been illicit. Discovery would result in his likely death, and probably at least castration while Sialen's reputation would be so tarnished that her marriage prospects would be drastically lowered. That was, if she didn't end up in a nunnery.  
“Thank you for sending me Mardu,” he heard her say. He looked down at her and gave her a slow nod.  
“No need to thank me. I am only too glad to give you opportunities you should have, anyway.”  
“Sometimes I still can't believe that the men of Atyamai aren't afraid to let a woman fight at their side, or practice magic with them.”  
“A man should not be afraid of being bettered by someone of the other sex. A true warrior always strives to elevate their skill, and to meet a worthy peer or adversary helps in that. Skill is skill, regardless of who holds it, and should be employed in any opportunity. True mastery comes from surpassing your peers on your own virtue, not by the pain of others.”  
“I have the feeling that Solan would decry that statement.”  
Kuoji gave out a small snort. Years ago, when he'd served as squire here, there had been rumors that Solan had one of his servants tamper with the equipment of a young noble man who was better than he at fencing. This had caused the rival to lose his match with the prince. Solan was well-known to be a sore loser, and his inflated ego blinded him to his many shortcomings.  
“Nonetheless, one can always hope that some time on the Islands will improve his thinking.”  
“Are they really to spend the rest of their lives there?”  
“Other than execution, this is the only solution that we deem viable.”  
She turned to look at him. To his relief, she had never offered him any recrimination on how her family had been treated. He'd done his best to assure her of peace and safety for her in Atyamai, and even happiness.  
“Well… anyway. Mardu said some things today which helped me think about my magic and how I can wield it.”  
“That is good to know. I was able to control my Fire magic under the tutelage I had back then, but it wasn't until I came to Atyamai that I could make fullest use of my Fire magic, however little of it I have.”  
“It makes me wonder, how did Sollsxiun culture come about in the first place? Why didn't women fight more back then when men started making up all these stupid rules? And I really doubt the Holy Book was written by the Heavenly Father himself.”  
“Some things are so old that it's hard to say where they come from,” Kuoji commented, recalling the scriptures from the Holy Book he'd had to memorize back then. The further one went back into history, the more obscured details became. Only if there was a way to be able to read history clearly! “Fortunately, the Holy book will fade away in history, in time.” And good riddance. The clerics claimed that the Heavenly Father wrote the book by his divine hand, and passed it down to humans, where clerics had the sacred task of copying the books to further spread the Heavenly Father's messages.  
“And so will we,” Sialen retorted.  
“But you and I should leave behind a better legacy.”  
She smiled a little at that. “And after I have mastered your language and my magic, what shall I do? I am still the head of House Fiori.” She paused, looking serious. “I'm almost afraid to ask, but… would it be expected of me to marry? Or what if I meet someone I like, would I have the freedom to be courted?”  
He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, trying to think of how to best answer her question. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at the pale-haired woman, knowing that this was an opportunity to speak of his feelings. Yet there was trepidation at the possibility that Sialen might reject any idea of romance with him. To hell with it, Kuoji told himself. He'd waited long enough.  
“I have to be honest with you, my princess. I care for you very deeply. Being with you again has brought me untold joy. I want to be the one for you.”  
She was silent for a moment, her lips parted slightly as she regarded him. What did he read in her eyes? As if she sensed what he was looking for, she quickly looked down.  
“Am I that bad of a prospect?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. She blinked and looked back at him.  
“No, no. It's not that! It's just...” She was getting s bit flustered, and it was nice to see a bit of emotion amidst her normally cool demeanor.  
“Just what?” He took a step closer.  
“I didn't expect this.” She took a deep breath.  
“My princess, you know I care for you. Should this be such a surprise?”  
“I don't know.” She paused. “Is there someone else? Back in Atyamai?”  
“No.” The truth rolled easily off his tongue. “Do you think me so lowly that I'd have an affair behind someone's back?”  
She had the good grace to appear slightly abashed. “I don't mean like that. I meant, you are Crown Prince, after all. I know the expectations of royalty. The troths… surely there is something like it in Atyamai?”  
“Yes and no. In Atyamai, parents may seek out prospective mates for their children, It is a long tradition, and a practice which has benefited some. However, in Atyamai, a woman can refuse a troth. Some families may try to pressure the girl to enter a troth agreement, but the girl has final say in the matter. She can not be penalized for refusing a proposal. I have no agreement with anyone, though I've had several proposals.” He sighed and shook his head, trying to put her at ease.  
“I do not speak idly, my princess. Give me the chance, and I will be the most gracious lover you could imagine. I would treat you like any woman, especially one so divine as yourself, deserves to be treated. Understand that you would have my protection nonetheless. You are a very dear friend to me, Sialen. I believe that karma has brought us together, and I would like for us to become… much closer. However, I am also an honorable man. As I promised before, you have nothing to fear.”  
Her eyes moved to the floor as she stood in silence. He regarded her with the same silence, well aware of the beating of his own heart. He couldn't force her to say yes, but he didn't want to hear no.  
“You do not need to decide now,” he finally stated. Her shoulders sagged just a bit in relief. “I only hope that my candor does not cause you to look at me in a less… favorable way.”  
She blinked and shook her head. “No, no. I don't want you to be less than honest with me.” She paused and sighed.  
“You made me a promise, so I will make my own vow to you. I will not exploit your feelings for me, Kuoji, or ever try to use them against you. Regardless of what becomes of us, you have my loyalty, and my secrecy for whatever you may choose to share with me. This I promise you.”  
It was not the declaration of love and passion that Kuoji dared hope for, but it gave him a limited amount of satisfaction.”Let us seal this agreement, then,” he whispered, taking ahold of her hands and drawing her near. His lips found hers as his hands lifted up to cup the sides of her face. Prudence was valued in the Atyamai, but Kuoji felt daring, and figured that he would give his princess a small token of his desire.  
Her lips were warm and sweet, and he gently ran his tongue along her lower lip, feeling her hands flutter against him before one came to rest on his chest. The other one went to his arm. He felt his desire pool into a tight knot within the lowest depths of his core. The hand that had been on his chest made its way up his neck, and he felt her fingers tremble against his jaw.  
He started to give her lip the lightest nibble, before Sialen pulled back.  
“...Sialen.” Her name came from his throat in a husky whisper. Gods! After that taste of her, he found himself fiercely aching for more, and glad for the Atyamainese fashion which let him wear clothes which enabled him to hide the beginnings of his arousal. If her lips were so tasty, what other flavors might he discover along her body? Just the thought of that only made his arousal ache all the more.  
He took a deep breath, trying to collect his senses enough to think in a coherent manner. It was no easy task, as the image of Sialen waiting for him in his bed, ready to receive his ardor, continued to haunt him even as he tried to focus his mind on more mundane topics.  
“Perhaps it is best that I retire for the night,” he heard her whisper. He blinked and raised one eyebrow.  
“Did you not find that kiss enjoyable?” he asked. She looked away, her eyelashes fluttering a little.  
“Modesty is an admirable trait in women… and men. However, there's no need for you to be shy,” he said with a purr as he took a step towards her. “After all, if you enjoyed it, it would be my delight to give you another.”  
She looked back at him. “I will not lie to you, so I will simply maintain my… modesty.”  
A slow smirk spread across his lips. “You do know that silence can sometimes be more telling than words?”  
She shrugged, and he chuckled softly. “I will allow you to maintain your silence, my princess, if that makes you feel better. However, it is my fondest hope that you do not feel the need to be so reticent in the future.”  
“One can always dream.”  
“The only thing better than a pleasant dream, is for it to become reality,” Kuoji replied, challenging her just a bit, enjoying this banter between them.  
“Well, I have often dreamed of putting my brother in his place, and it certainly was gratifying to have the chance to actually do so. So yes, I see the wisdom in your statement.”  
“Having revenge on someone who deserves it certainly can be satisfying enough, but I seek a different kind of satisfaction with you.”  
“I think it is time to change the subject,” Sialen replied. Kuoji wasn't sure if it was simply his own wishful thinking, but he was fairly sure he saw a twinkle in her eye.  
“As the lady wishes.”

o0o

It was almost disturbing, the responses that Kuoji was able to elicit from her body. Sialen knew she wasn't attracted to women, but the thought of marriage was something she found repugnant, especially with the men that her father had permitted to court her. The very notion of sharing a bed with any of these men, regardless of age or level of handsomeness, literally made her cringe, even now.  
Her hand slid along her thigh as Sialen sat there in the copper bathtub, wondering what it might feel like for Kuoji to touch her there, and in more intimate areas...  
No. She had to stay strong and resolute. Never had anyone else caused her to feel even a bit of a stir, and though she found herself overwhelmed by what Kuoji had awoken inside of her. She'd heard of stories of passion, and although the Heavenly Father deemed it sinful, many of his followers, especially some that presented the outward image of piety, could be the most blatant hypocrites. It was a relief to her that she had been immune to the feelings that were said to be the downfall of many.  
She would not suffer that demise. Her head lolled back against the edge of the tub as she closed her eyes, resolutely pulling her hand away from her thigh. Despite her determination, she knew it would be a task easier said than done, because she did find him attractive on the physical level. That he was so respectful and kind to her only added even more to his favor.  
Stepping out of the tub and drying herself, she pulled on a linen shift. Despite Kuoji's promise to her, she had no doubt that he would find ways to remind her of their shared attraction, and she dreaded it. Yet, as she felt the material slide along her erect nipples as she pulled it down her body, she could not help but imagine what it might feel like to have his fingers brush against these nubs… and his lips…  
“Damnit!” she exclaimed softly.  
“Is something the matter, my lady?” she heard Sana ask as the dark-haired woman entered the room.  
“Yes… er, no.” Sialen took a slow breath as she quickly puled on a robe. It was of an Atyamainese design, with sleeves that one could store a limited amount of objects in, as was common among some shirts and robes that she'd seen among the Atyamainese. The material was plain dark indigo silk, a color that she found appealing.  
Sana regarded her with a quizzical expression, but fortunately, did not press the matter.


	7. Seven

*Moonshadows*

*VII*

o0o

The torches cast several shadows from Kuoji's body as he moved down the  
hallway to visit the former King of Corona and his family. Helin glared  
at him silently from behind the bars of his cell, offering no greeting.  
His clothing, while moderately clean, was also of a plain, coarse  
fabric, not much worse than what peasants wore. Despite his best effort  
to keep up appearances, the lack of his usual grooming supplies and  
manservants had taken its toll on the former ruler's visage. The rest of  
his family was no better off than he.

"Good morning, Helin," Kuoji stated politely.

"There was a time when you referred to me by my proper honorific."

"Such days are past," Kuoji countered calmly, cutting Helin off before  
he could further any attempt to reassert his forever-lost authority. The  
men of this family had proven to be as stubborn as they were stupid.  
Since the men seemed to feed one another's illusions of superiority,  
Kuoji had ordered them be separated from one another. The only way the  
men could communicate now was by yelling, but that brought reprisal from  
their Atyamainese guards.

"What brings you here?" Helin asked, capitulating quickly, to Kuoji's  
mild surprise and relief.

"Can I not have some concern for your welfare?" Kuoji replied in as  
neutral a tone as possible. "Despite what you may believe, the people of  
Atyamai are not monsters."

Heiln's jaw tightened, but he offered no argument. Kuoji allowed himself  
a faint smile. Despite the older man's stubbornness, several weeks in  
the dungeons had done well to temper his pride, though there was the  
inevitable flare-up of the old arrogance at times. He did not doubt that  
the former king still believed that the Heavenly Father would intercede  
at some point in the future and unleash his divine justice on behalf of  
his 'wronged' people.

"Have you ever considered the fact that the lands you call Corona were  
not even yours to begin with in the first place?"

The people of the continent of Aetl had a rich mixture of cultures and  
ethnicities, but one thing that the different native races of the land  
shared was a propensity to dark hair and eyes, if not skin. The people  
of Atyamai and their forebears tended to have paler skin – along with  
the almond-shaped eyes that was unique to their ethnic group – while the  
people of Viruch, Dakul, and the lands beyond these kingdoms favored  
darker complexions. It was even said that beyond the Great Desert to the  
south, there were people with skin as black as night, though Kuoji had  
never met such a person.

The light hair and eyes of the people who called themselves Coronans  
were foreign to Aetl, but they had been residents of Aetl for so long  
that many people, including the Coronans themselves, had forgotten this  
fact. However, when one explored historical records with a keen eye, one  
would notice no mention of Coronans beyond a certain point in the past,  
and the first mention of people with light hair and eyes usually came  
with tales of 'foreign devils' and conquest.

Kuoji half-expected Helin to deny this question. However, the older man  
fixed his blue eyes on Kuoji. "What of it? My ancestors proved  
themselves to be mighty. They brought civilization to a land of savages  
and heathens. The first Helin took this palace from its former owners  
and founded the Sol dynasty. He was blessed by the Heavenly Father and  
tasked to help spread his divine influence in this land."

"Yes. The former rulers of this land fell victim to their own hubris,"  
Kuoji acknowledged with a light shrug. From what dedicated historians in  
Atyamai and Viruch were able to piece together, the first Coronans had  
sailed to one of the more northernmost parts of what would eventually  
become Corona, and started their conquest from there. The former rulers,  
like the Atyamai, were pale of skin and had the same almond-shaped eyes,  
though they were not considered Atyamainese because their culture and  
language were significantly different in many ways.

The conquered people were not offered assimilation – their only options  
were exile, or a social status that was little more than slave. As most  
of the people of the now-extinct kingdom of Hgngu migrated to the east  
to escape the oppression of their would-be masters while the rest made  
their way south or west, more and more Coronans immigrated, ensuring a  
steady growth and strength for the newly-founded kingdom of what the  
bordering lands saw as pale-haired devils.

"Just as you have,' Kuoji calmly added. "You put your faith in some  
invisible, imaginary being in the sky..." He drew no small amount of  
pleasure at Helin's visible bristling at the Heavenly Father being  
referred to as 'imaginary', "rather than attending to the welfare of  
your own people and military. Your people are not the first persons to  
conquer a land, nor will you be the last to fall to a more powerful race."

"The Heavenly Father often tests his subjects to make sure they are  
worthy," Helin replied. Kuoji saw no need to argue with that. Sometimes  
it was easier – and often far more effective – to allow people to  
experience disillusionment on their own instead of trying to beat it  
into them.

"I have simply come to inform you that we will be departing at the end a  
ten-night's time."

A flicker of fear passed through Helin's eyes as he was given a date for  
the end of his time in the land he'd lived in for his entire life, and  
had expected to rule until the end of his days.

"As you have seen thus far, we can be kind to our prisoners, but you  
have also seen that we expect a fair exchange in return. Your life in  
Atyamai will be modestly comfortable, provided that you do not aggrieve  
your jailers."

This was a lesson that Helin and his son was long in learning, though  
the father was quicker to take it to heart than his offspring.

"If there is anything you wish to take with you, you may ask it of us,  
and it will be considered. You have time to think on it."

"There are plenty of things I'd like, but I know you would deny them."

Kuoji regarded him with a small smirk before he left Helin to consider  
his offer.

o0o

Though Sialen was happy – and honored – to have a position of  
responsibility in Azami's court, she hadn't anticipated how much  
enjoyment she would derive from sitting in the Mother's Court. For the  
first time in her life, she had real power, and she could use it to help  
others, who like her, had been victim to old laws which held their  
gender against them.

As the days went by, what Kuoji had said about Coronan law and its  
effect on men was made clearer to her. She'd had several men come to  
her, to petition for justice against tyrannical fathers or grandfathers,  
who could use their power as family leaders to mistreat the younger men  
of their families.

Though she'd been fairly young when her father's father had passed away,  
she remembered an incident where the second-to-last King had yelled at  
her father for some minor infraction. King Solan was suffering from the  
mental decline that was known to befall certain older people, making  
interactions with him an ordeal as his mental illness manifested itself  
not in forgetfulness and doting, but aggressiveness and stubbornness. As  
the head of the royal family, it was Solan who decided what his  
grandchildren would be named, hence her brother being named after their  
grandsire. Solan's death had come as an immense relief to Helin and his  
surviving siblings, and Helin had wasted no time in having his father  
interred in the family mausoleum, observing the bare minimum of a  
mourning period.

In the Way of the Light, sons were expected to do as their father or  
grandfather told them, regardless of their feelings for their superior.  
And woe betide younger sons, for should a father pass away, the eldest  
son took on the mantle of family head, and the same was expected of the  
unfortunate men who saw one tyrant die only to be replaced by another.  
Sialen had listened to several cases between males within the same  
family. She arbitrated these cases the best she could, handing down the  
solution she felt most fair to everyone involved.

She had several more petitioners, and figured it would take most of what  
remained of the afternoon to clear her docket. The scribe took out a  
fresh sheet of paper, ready to inscribe. The Atyamai guards stood at  
strategic points about the room, offering as silent sentinels and if  
needed, enforcers.

The next case was interesting, and she listened to the woman as she  
petitioned for an end to her marriage. Under Coronan law, only a man had  
the power to end his marriage. Naturally, Sialen could only cheerfully  
inform the woman that if she wished to divorce her husband, she had  
complete leave to do so, and to take back her dowry.

The woman fell to her knees and thanked her judge profusely before  
rising to her feet and resuming her seat. Sialen saw that the old man  
who had been sitting near the back all day frowned at her judgment, but  
he said nothing. She listened to two more cases before the man rose from  
his seat, evidently the last case of the day. Given his disapproving  
glare, she was certain that whatever she might rule in his case would be  
to his displeasure. The man looked familiar to her, and she narrowed her  
eyes slightly.

"You sit upon that chair and determine the fates of men. Only the  
Fathers may do that."

As soon as she heard the voice, she recognized him. He was quite a  
different sight with his face shorn of the thick beard that marked his  
rank as the leading holy man in the Way of the Light.

The Earthfather was seen as the Heavenly Father's earthly representative  
in religious matters, and was second only to the royal family in terms  
of power. He and the former King had a mutually beneficial relationship,  
and with the Atyamainese takeover, she knew the man she remembered as  
arrogant and misogynistic would not take his loss of power well.

"Meser Fiori," Sialen stated, using the casual title for a man of lower  
rank. His eyebrows furrowed as he glared at her, and she smiled down at  
him faintly. His faith seemed to have kept him vital through the years,  
and the lack of beard helped to highlight the wiry strength of his  
shoulders and chest. The younger cousin of Bachis Fiori had committed  
himself to the Way of the Light in his teens, and his faith was rewarded  
in due time with the position of the supreme religious authority in all  
of Corona. He'd gone into hiding during the invasion, and she wasn't  
sure if she'd ever see the old blowhard again.

"I am not a meser, you impudent young woman!"

Before he could continue, Sialen cut him off. "You do realize, that you  
have committed a grave offense for entering the Mother's Court, and my  
presence, under false pretenses. You would do well to remember that you  
are not the one in power here. However, humility begets mercy, and I do  
my best to come to a fair conclusion for all parties involved." Her  
voice was icy, her words delivered with the chill of absolute certainty.

His mouth clamped shut for a moment as if an invisible hand had wrapped  
around his throat. "Now, what is it you would ask of me? And do keep in  
mind, that certain things are not in my power to give." /And even if I  
did have the power/, I wouldn't grant them to you, Sialen silently added.

"It is not about what I want. I am but a servant of the Heavenly Father,  
and bound to preach his word..."

"No. No." Sialen waved her hand. She looked to her left, nodding to  
Sana. Her companion made several quick hand gestures for the guards to see.

"There will be no preaching, or proselytizing. I do not follow the Way  
of the Light. You are free to pray to him in private, but the Atyamai do  
not endorse this religion."

"Devil spawn!" Marc Fiori, no longer Lord Fiori or Earthfather in this  
new order of things, sputtered in impotent rage. "The treasuries of the  
Heavenly Father have been emptied! They're thieves, and I demand  
recompense! Do the Atyamai support stealing?"

/Aha, here's something I can actually respond to/… Sialen mused as she  
spoke. "These treasures helped nobody but a few. You and the nobles grew  
fat off the ignorance of the masses. The Atyamai are using this treasure  
to pay their soldiers, and I've met these soldiers. They're good men,  
and deserve it for their diligence, as well as the fairness they have  
shown us, which is more than I can say if the situation was reversed. In  
turn, tithes are now illegal, and taxes have been reduced by half.  
Without having to pay tithes, or for the Atyamainese military, our  
people will be able to do better for their families, and for themselves.  
So, no. The Church coffers will not be replenished. I know you and your  
followers have personal riches, still. Certainly not as much as before,  
but you still have more than some men could ever earn in a lifetime."  
Marc Fiori was technically a "poor" relative of House Fiori, but he  
still had a small but ample estate in the Green.

"You expect me to just… go and spend the rest of my days in exile?"

/Actually, no/, Sialen mused. Azami wanted the Earthfather in custody to  
see what she could learn from him, as well as having the leverage of  
such a prisoner. After evasion for nearly a month, it would be laughable  
to know that the Earthfather had walked right into the grip of the Dark  
Hand. There were also rumors of things he'd done to young women, and as  
long as he was here, Sialen would mete out justice as she thought best.

"You would not take to exile well, I can see that. How difficult it must  
have been to shave off your beard," Sialen said with a small smirk. The  
beard was a mark of high learning and wisdom – at least by the Heavenly  
Father's standards. "No. I expect you to make penance for past misdeeds.  
Your followers are being required to do the same."

"What misdeeds?" Marc Fiori scoffed, crossing his arms. "Any rumors you  
hear are from unfaithful ones who walk the path of darkness and are  
determined to tarnish my good name." He looked around at the other  
petitioners who had chosen to remain in the chamber after their cases  
were closed. He was met with silence and more than one disgusted gaze.  
His eyes widened as he noted the lack of support, and he whipped around  
to glare at her again.

"You have not had a good name in a long time," Sialen retorted acidly.  
"And I remember well the things you've said to me in the past. Thank  
goodness I chose to disregard that… so-called advice. You are now the  
guest of the Tekura Clan, and you will enjoy their hospitality."

"What? You can't!" He sprung forward, and had his arms swiftly grabbed  
by a pair of guards. He glanced from one to the other, seeing they were  
Atyamainese. "Divine justice will be meted out in due time, and you will  
rue your pridefulness!"

"There is nobody amongst our people who is more prideful than you, I am  
sure. You did things that you would have been held accountable for if  
not for your power and wealth. Judgment has come, and your fate will be  
soon met. Guards, take him down to the dungeon. Keep him separate from  
the others for now. And of course, our hosts must be made aware of this  
as soon as possible." Already, an idea was forming in her head. If Helin  
and Marc came together, there would be much talking, and she was sure,  
some valuable information could be gleaned from the clergyman. That  
would be arranged for, after Marc had some time to cool his heels.

She rose from her seat, her stomach grumbling quietly as she stretched  
her legs. As she stepped outside into the gardens, she saw servants at  
work, setting the tables with a sup for the petitioners. Some of them  
had traveled a ways and were tired and hungry, and the Tekura could not  
be faulted in their courtesy as hosts. The menu was predominantly  
Coronan, but several Atyamai items made their way amidst the familiar  
sliced bread, cold meat, and cheese, and hot stew. Seasonal fruits and  
vegetables complemented the spicy Atyamainese noodle soup, and there  
were steamed dumplings which were oddly reminiscent of meat or vegetable  
pie, a popular dish among a variety of classes and social strata.  
According to Kuoji, dumplings were much-loved, and was usually served at  
least once a week in many homes.

Sialen was a practical woman, and the simple meal was much more  
comfortable for a commoner not used to the intricate etiquette of the  
highborn. There was some curiosity and a bit of skepticism about the  
Atyamainese food, but after seeing Sialen happily munch on a dumpling,  
people were more willing to try a cuisine that was unique to them.

She politely bid them farewell before retreating from the garden, her  
pulse pounding a bit. Marc Fiori, a much-wanted but elusive man, had  
practically walked right into the Palace and all but turned himself in!  
Granted, losing his beard had been an effective disguise, but what did  
the Earthfather think would happen once he revealed himself? Was he so  
confident that his beloved Heavenly Father would use him as an agent to  
smite the so-called infidels?

Several guards stood at the entrance to an apartment in the guest wing.  
Upon her request, and after consideration and approval from Azami, her  
mother and sister had been moved to this apartment. Though considerably  
less roomy than the spacious suites for the royal family, the modest  
quarters were a definite improvement over the dungeons. The guards  
regarded her with slight bows and let her pass without comment.

Selestia was working on some embroidery, and Stella was praying quietly.  
They had been provided with some items with which they could pass their  
time in ease, among these sewing implements, some books, a couple of  
musical instruments, and a couple of other things that she knew her  
mother and sister enjoyed. It was Sialen's hope that in these improved  
circumstances, her mother and sister would be less inclined to see their  
conquerors as monsters.

"Greetings, Mother. Good evening, Stella. How are you?" Sialen asked,  
keeping her chatter polite and friendly as she moved further into the  
room, taking a seat near the window, across from her mother.

"As well as we can be under these circumstances," Selestia replied  
stiffly. Sialen held back a sigh, determined to keep her upbeat attitude.

"You will not believe who visited me in the Mother's Court!' Sialen  
said, eager to deliver this bit of news. "The Earthfather himself!"

Selestia stared at her for several moments, setting down her needlework.  
Sialen was surprised to see the mixture of emotion in her mother's eyes.  
Was that a glimmer of relief she saw in these blue depths?

"The Earthfather? You are absolutely certain?"

"Yes, Mother. I did not recognize him at first because he has shaved off  
his beard, but he spoke, and removed all doubt."

"I suppose now that the Dark Hand has him, it will not release its grip."

"Count on that, Mother," Sialen replied.

Selestia was quiet for a moment, and the younger woman saw flickers of  
emotion dance across her mother's face, so subtle as to be almost  
unseen, but Sialen did not miss the tightening of the muscles around  
Selestia's mouth, or the way she blinked several times.

Sialen had been expecting some sort of comment on how the Earthfather  
was sure to bring the Heavenly Father's wrath upon the Atyamai, or  
something similar. She reached out to lightly touch her mother's hand.

"Mother, are you well?" she inquired. Selestia blinked again and nodded.

"If he was foolish enough to wander into a place full of Atyamainese,  
that is his mistake," Selestia replied neutrally. The older woman's  
voice was calm and controlled, as it usually was, but Sialen could  
almost swear that her mother's comment was her way of saying 'good  
riddance'. And for a woman who was as devout as Selestia was, to harbor  
such feelings towards the holiest man in the Way of the Light…

"However, it is not proper for us to gloat over the misfortune of  
others. I do not doubt you enjoy the power you wield in the Mother's  
Court, but remember that pride is a sin," Selestia said, and with that,  
she closed herself off, as she did all too often, her innermost feelings  
and thoughts ever a mystery to her elder daughter.

o0o

The next morning, Sialen stood in the shadows of the walkway that  
bordered the courtyard that Kuoji and his soldiers often sparred in.  
Already a good amount of men were assembled there, several pairs testing  
their skills against one another. When Kuoji emerged into the light,  
Sialen was shocked to see her brother following the Prince. The former  
Prince was clad in a simple Coronan male's outfit, with a long-sleeved  
tunic, jerkin, and leggings.

As Solan looked around the space, Sialen kept herself in the shadows.  
Her brother walked with his shoulders squared, but she was certain that  
inside, he was nervous. Why wouldn't he be, when he no longer had all  
the privileges he'd once enjoyed? He looked a touch pale from his time  
in the near-underground chambers, but none the worse for wear.

Kuoji waved for the men in the open to continue their sparring, while he  
sat down and a servant brought tea for him and Solan. Solan left his cup  
untouched and stared at the combatants, who were at the time engaged in  
martial arts, several younger men taking instruction from older ones  
while many of the onlookers listened and observed. Kuoji glanced at  
Solan and gestured to the men, saying something. She could not make out  
the conversation from up here, but it appeared that Kuoji was explaining  
something about Atyamainese fighting techniques.

In time, the men stopped sparring, and Kuoji rose to his feet, beckoning  
to Solan as he moved to the center of the sparring space. Solan remained  
where he was for a moment, but rose to his feet.

Both men were given wooden swords, and Sialen noticed that they were in  
the longer, thinner style of the common Atyamainese sword. Kuoji said  
something and bowed, before he repeated whatever it was he said in a  
firmer tone. Solan stared at him for a couple of moments, and she took a  
deep breath, wondering if her brother was going to squander this  
opportunity. But he bowed – not as much as was proper, but it was a  
start. Kuoji did not press the issue, and he raised his sword, nodding  
to his former superior.

Solan lunged forward, and Kuoji was quick to parry his thrust. The  
blonde spun around, to face him again, and the Atyamainese prince  
blocked and parried bis successive swings and thrusts. The harsh clack  
of the wooden weapons rang through the air as Solan made his best effort  
to take down is former servant.

Kuoji did little to actively provoke his counterpart. He would respond  
to Solan's attacks, and on occasion, take a swing to deliver quick  
blows. Solan had every chance to gracefully admit defeat, but his fury  
at having a foe who seemed to find him little effort ensured that his  
ego would not be swayed.

However, after Kuoji gave Solan's sword a sharp rap, Solan had to drop  
his weapon, waving his injured hand and glaring at his adversary. Kuoji  
waved his hand and spoke, and a soldier took hold of Solan's arm and led  
him back to bis seat while an older soldier faced the Prince.

This new opponent was considerably worthier of Kuoji's skills, swiftly  
dancing and thrusting around one another. However, the Prince was  
eventually bested by his subject. The two bowed to one another before  
retreating from the space. After about ten minutes, Kuoji and Solan  
retired from the courtyard, but Sialen remained to watch other soldiers  
spar.

A heated breath at the back of her ear made her flinch a bit, and she  
turned to see Kuoji, smiling at her faintly.

"Did you enjoy watching us, my princess?" he whispered.

"Your men are skilled," Sialen replied neutrally, fighting back a smile.

"Though a person should hone a skill for their personal betterment, it  
never hurts to have admiration now and then."

"There is that." She glanced around for a bit, but before she could ask,  
Kuoji answered her unspoken question.

"Your brother is back in his cell. I figured that some quiet would be a  
better atmosphere for… personal reflection."

"Mmm." She nodded briefly. "There is something I need to discuss."

"Is privacy required?" he asked. She shrugged before motioning to Sana.  
The attendant nodded and took several steps back.

"I wish to confer lordship of the Green to my female cousins.  
Particularly Jacinthe. I have not seen her for several years, but I am  
certain she could maintain the estate with some qualified help. Lord  
Starsmore has also offered a marriage alliance that is open to any  
qualifying woman in the Fiori family."

It might have seemed somewhat cold to some to speak of arrangements, but  
he knew that Sialen was practical, and knew marriage could be a very  
valuable tool at times. Besides, having already discussed it with him  
before going to Sialen, Lord Starsmore had also made it clear that he  
wanted the marriage to be mutually beneficial to husband and wife. He  
would hold tourneys and other events to ensure that eligible prospects  
from both families had the chance to meet and take a liking to one  
another, if so inclined. House Fiori would be protected by its liege  
lord, and House Starsmore would have Fiori's pedigree attached to their  
lineage. With the shift in fortunes between the two houses, it benefited  
all.

"Well, you are Lord of House Fiori. It is your decision."

She smiled and did a slight curtsey. "Thank you, Lord Tekura."

"It is nearly time for nuncheon, Lady Starsmore. Would you do the honor  
of accompanying me?"

"I would be delighted."

o0o

Before going to the midday meal, Kuoji excused himself to wash up and  
change into something more formal. He retreated to his apartment,  
reminded of the fact that this had once been Solan's residence as he  
recalled his match with the former Prince.

There was a time where, had he laid his hand on the Prince, he would  
have almost certainly faced execution, or at the least, removal of his  
hand – something that the Heavenly Father would have said was merciful.  
If anything positive could have been gleaned from his life in Corona, it  
was that his difficult early years taught him humility, and a better  
respect of social inferiors in his elevated position.

He slid off his shirt, glancing in the mirror as he quickly toweled his  
brow. Dark green eyes stared from a face that had marked him as a  
stranger in this fair land since he was born.

o0o

Nearly A Decade Ago...

Lucas' lips were set in a firm line as he brushed the gold-dappled white  
horse, making sure the creature's coat was smooth and shiny. Nearly two  
years in the Palace had developed a variety of skills for him, and he  
hoped that one day, he would be able to find an occupation when he left  
the Palace. He'd been thinking about going east to Atyamai. Would he be  
welcomed there, or did the Atyamainese share the Coronans' disdain for  
half-breeds? At this time, his main occupation was taking care of the  
horses, and being one of Solan's attendants for when the Prince was  
riding, hunting, or sparring with other noble sons. At fourteen, that  
was a decent enough position for a youth of his pedigree, and he had a  
roof over his head and modest but ample rations.

Though Lucas had done his best to fit in and not cause any trouble, he  
still faced provocation and discrimination. He could only bear this in  
silence, for to raise a hand to a servant, much less a highborn, would  
have caused trouble for a lowly groomsman, much less one that was  
clearly a descendant of Corona's much-hated rival.

Satisfied with the horse's appearance, Lucas saddled the horse with  
Solan's equipment. The polished gold links and fine leather was  
well-maintained, as the Prince demanded. Ensuring that the saddle and  
reins were secure, he led the horse outside, where Solan would come to  
claim it. It could be five minutes or an hour, but either way, Lucas had  
to wait.

"Slanty-eyes, where do you think you're going with the Prince's horse?"  
he heard a rough yet nasally voice from behind him, and he stiffened,  
squaring his shoulders. He looked around to see several teenaged sons of  
various lords facing him, each wearing something that identified their  
family, whether it be a tunic, cape, or jacket. A couple of other  
squires were in the yard, ostensibly doing various chores, but Lucas did  
not doubt they were listening for the confrontation that their lords so  
obviously sought.

"I am simply waiting for him, as he commands," Lucas replied, giving the  
briefest, most honest yet polite answer he could muster.

"Well, that's where the Atyamainese dog belongs, anyway. Under his  
master's heel," the leader of the noble youths retorted. Lucas took a  
slow, deep breath as he clenched his jaw. He kept his eyes averted to  
the ground, keeping the others within his peripheral view. The  
ringleader's hair was wavy light brown, just barely touching broad  
shoulders that sat above a belly that was already taking on a slight paunch.

/Heavenly Father/, he prayed. /I am humble. I go to church services. I  
do the readings. I observe the rites with Mother. I obey my King and  
Prince. I keep my hands occupied. I seek no trouble. Please allow them  
to choose kindness./

As usual, his prayers in such situations were unanswered.

"A dog, taking care of the Prince's horse? Has the world gone mad?"

"Well, you can teach a dog tricks. Mum's little doggie sits and begs on  
command," another of the young men commented.

"Why, that's a good idea," the brown-haired boy said with a malicious  
grin. "Hey, doggie. Kneel."

Lucas' cheeks burned with embarrassment. None of them were Solan, but  
his position was precarious. A complaint from a noble might blossom into  
repercussions for him or his mother. Yet, his dignity refused to allow  
him to fall to his knees. He kept his eyes fixed to the ground, his  
hands on the horse's reins, praying that Solan would not find them like  
this and join in on the fun.

"What, doggie? Are you deaf? I said kneel!"

Lucas chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the heat from  
rising to his cheeks. He became still, almost as if by rendering himself  
motionless, they would lose interest. How he longed to punch the other  
boy n the face…

Feet strode towards him, and he felt a jab to his shoulder.  
Instinctively, his free hand balled into a fist.

"Hey!" he heard someone yell. The other boy spun around. Descending the  
rough-hewn stone ramp that led down to the stable yard was Lord Harlan  
Starsmore. His jacket held the color and motif of his family crest – a  
silver star formed by the lapels of his jacket, amidst a field of indigo.

Lucas pulled back a grimace, wondering if the Heavenly Father was in an  
especially shitty mood today. Only the year before, Lord Starsmore's  
eldest daughter had been kidnapped and murdered on her way to a convent  
in the eastern stretches of the Green. The men behind such a foul deed  
were Atyamainese, so it was said. Lord Starsmore certainly had no reason  
to look at a half-Atyamainese youth with any favor.

"You should know better than to harass a servant who is simply going  
about his duties," Lord Starsmore reprimanded as he fixed his eyes upon  
Lucas' tormentor.

"Oh, we were just funnin' around, sir," the ringleader responded  
cheerily, giving Lucas a pat on the back that was just a bit firmer than  
necessary.

"The Heavenly Father reminds us that while strength is a valuable asset,  
so is forbearance. Especially when people have done nothing to provoke  
you," Lord Starsmore lectured as he stepped across the straw and  
well-packed dirt n the yard.

/Thank you, Heavenly Father/, Lucas breathed. Still, he said nothing,  
waiting to see what the other boy would say.

"I… I was just making sure that he stays on the straight and narrow!"

Lord Starsmore gave the boy an even stare. "I believe he is already  
doing well enough without any help from you or your friends."

At this, Lucas finally ventured to speak. "Thank you, Lord Starsmore."

The older man regarded him with a brief nod before he turned to the  
others. "I believe your horses are ready. There is no more reason to  
linger."

The brown-haired boy backed away, meeting Lucas' eyes for a moment with  
a hateful glare before he turned away. Lord Starsmore remained where he  
was until the youths and their respective squires had left the yard.

"Thank you again, sir." Lucas said, bowing his head.

"Look at me."

Lucas' eyes widened a bit at that command, but who was he to question a  
man who had showed him unexpected kindness? He looked back up, taking  
note of the placid face with its thick eyebrows and faint lines at the  
eyes. It seemed like the lord was also studying him. Did he see the men  
who were responsible for his daughter's death?

"What do you know of your father?" he asked.

"...pardon, sir?" Lucas breathed. His mind raced to what little he knew  
of his father. Many believed that his mother had been raped by an  
Atyamainese soldier or mercenary. What little he did know of his father,  
included the fact that he had been a kind man. However, this knowledge  
was only imparted with the promise that he not discuss this with anyone  
else. For it to be known that a Coronan woman had willingly laid with an  
Atyamainese man…

"I believe you understood my question."

Lucas quickly looked down.

"I have no malicious intent," he heard Lord Starsmore say. He looked  
back up, furrowing his brows in doubt.

"The truth is that I know next to nothing about him."

"Hmm." Lord Starsmore stared at him for several moments before giving a  
brief nod. "Work hard, and do your best in all aspects of life. You may  
have a more difficult lot in life than others, but Heaven rewards the  
faithful… even if the rewards may sometimes be long in coming."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then. Have a good day." It sounded like Lord Starsmore actually  
meant that.

"You too."

Lucas feared the boys might come back to bully him some more after Lord  
Starsmore left, but Solan arrived several minutes later. As he assisted  
Solan, and followed him into the open, he saw the Queen and her two  
daughters, standing with several other noblewomen to see their husbands  
or sons off for the hunt.

Sialen looked in his direction, and Lucas had to hold back a wave.  
Nonetheless, her presence caused a warm flutter within his chest. He  
imagined being a full-fledged knight, and winning a tourney so that he  
could ride up to her and offer her a flower, as was the custom for the  
victor. There were other things he imagined as well… things that the  
Heavenly Father was certain to frown upon. After all, he was a peasant,  
and a half-breed, and she was a princess, and the Court would howl in  
laughter at the notion of a union between the two.

Yet he could not help but hope. She'd shown, in her own way, that she  
respected him. She sent him books via his mother, who worked as the  
Queen's seamstress, enabling him to gain an education often deprived to  
his station. Granted, he had no tutor or formal curriculum, the  
education he'd received at a younger age deemed enough for him by the  
clerics. Nonetheless, he devoured whatever book she sent his way, and  
even did a bit of studying with his mother.

His plan was to leave Corona within a few years and find a way to  
support himself in Atyamai, or possibly Viruch, and he would take his  
mother with him. Would Sialen leave her life behind to go with him, if  
she had the chance? Despite the seeming impossibility of such an event,  
Lucas could not help but dream.

He turned away from her to do a last-minute check of Solan's gear,  
watching the Prince ride off with his fiends. Ostensibly to get the sun  
out of his eyes, he casually turned back to her. Sialen was looking off  
in the distance with her mother and sister, but within a moment, her  
eyes had darted back to him.

They stared at one another for a moment that gave them a flash of  
eternity, before she looked away from him out of the decorum demanded of  
Coronan women and girls.

o0o

Kuoji straightened his collar, giving himself a quick once-over in the  
mirror before he left his chambers. Those who had mocked him when he was  
younger would have never imagined to find him in a position above  
theirs. One of the tenets of the Atyamai was to be humble in victory,  
but Kuoji would be lying if he said he didn't take pleasure in the way  
Solan had made himself so easy to defeat, or the shock in the eyes of  
the young nobleman who had once tried to make him into a dog. That had  
been indeed a memorable day, and truth be told, Kuoji had been tempted  
to tell Lord Dix to sit and beg like a dog. Fortunately for Dix, Kuoji  
had decided that such behavior, while guaranteeing temporary  
satisfaction, was ultimately not worth his time. The fact that Lord Dix  
also had just enough intelligence to bend his knee and swear fealty,  
also factored in that decision, to be sure.

And now, after all these years, Kuoji also had his princess. Lord  
Starsmore had been right all these years ago. His hard work and patience  
had indeed been rewarded.

He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see Sialen, with dark blue  
ribbons in her hair, and a matching blue dress with mint-green silk  
peeking out from the openings in the dark-hued velvet.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"We shall." He offered his arm, and she took it.

o0o

Ten-night is not a grammatical mistake. In this world, it is similar to  
fortnight. I'm using the same period of days, hours, and minutes, but  
weeks and months throughout out world are based on various religions or  
historical events, which would not have happened in my world. So instead  
of seven days on the Gregorian calendar, based in part from the  
Christian myth of Jehovah's six days of creation and one day of rest, I  
decided to have the week be based off ten, from having ten fingers.  
(there will be a bit further explanation as the story goes on)

Any questions or feedback, I'm all ears!


	8. VIII

*Moonshadows*

*VIII*

o0o

The Emperor of the many lands of the Atyamai opened his eyes and stared  
up at the ceiling, which reflected the warm glow cast by the slivers of  
morning sun that had made their way through the window coverings. The  
soft rustle of fabric alerted him to his wife moving around, making  
preparations for their morning rituals. When Ilde spent the night, she  
would brew tea for them in the morning and depending on the weather,  
they would remain in the bedroom or move out to the veranda. They would  
have a cup or two before going on about their morning ablutions and then  
sitting down for their morning meal, enjoying some quiet time before  
facing the Court or other things that were obligations for the monarch  
of this land and his wife.

The linen sheets brushed along his nude form as he rolled out of bed,  
pulling on a plain dark gray robe that lay folded on a nearby stool. He  
strode over to the doors that led to his private garden, disengaging the  
bolt and pulling the handles. Noiselessly, the wooden doors swung to the  
sides, revealing verdant landscaping with bursts of color here and there  
from deep scarlet and royal purple to the palest of hues and snow-white.

Before he'd been reunited with Ilde, the garden had been nearly empty,  
an expanse of sand, rocks, and dirt. He would come out to it for  
meditation, ignoring his surroundings.

However, he had to admit that the garden was now a much more pleasant  
place to be. Ilde had an eye for landscaping, and had found a pleasing  
balance between the open areas, and the flowers and plants she placed  
strategically amidst these spaces.

He made his way across the stone and polished wood of the veranda, bare  
toes slipping into the sand after he'd reached one of the spaces that  
was devoid of foliage. The early morning sun did not offer much warmth  
at this time, but Imonje still tilted his face toward it, seeing its  
light through his closed eyelids. Minutes passed before he heard the  
quiet crunch of footsteps on gravel. Without opening his eyes, he held  
out his hand, and felt warm ceramic lightly rest on his palm.

He lifted his other hand, curling his fingers around the teacup and  
taking a sip before opening his eyes to see his wife near him, nursing  
her own tea.

The life of an Emperor was one filled with duties and responsibilities.  
It was much easier to face these obligations when his beloved was at his  
side in the morning. For over a decade, he'd been bereft of her  
presence, mourning what he had believed was her passing, and loving her  
ghost. However, ghosts could not love back.

"The quarters for Lady Sialen have been prepared and are in my court.  
The arrangements have also been made for her family." She went on with  
several other matters that involved the maintenance and upkeep of the  
Imperial City and its staff. Though there was a majordomo, and managers  
of the various staff that served in the Palace, the Empress was  
traditionally the final say in such matters. Hauane had proven herself  
an effective mistress after taking some time getting used to her  
position, and was respected by her underlings.

"And where exactly did you place Sialen?" Imonje asked with a small  
smirk. Though his son had been taciturn about his life in Corona, Imonje  
had learned over time of his son's feelings for the Coronan princess.  
From the most recent message he'd received from his son, it appeared  
that things were going well between the two. "Don't make it too  
difficult for our son to visit her," he teased.

The blonde before him raised her eyebrow. Typically, the Empress'  
quarters, which she could populate with her favored servants and  
ladies-in-waiting, had gone through various states with succeeding  
Empresses. Some would hold parlors somewhere within their quarters, for  
sewing, poetry, writing, music, or any of a number of other pursuits.  
Others liked to keep their young children near, and would use some of  
that space for nurseries or playrooms. Yet others might fill these rooms  
with collections, or devote that space to hobbies or personal  
meditation. It was not unheard for Empresses to temporarily, or  
permanently host friends or relatives. There were even a few instances  
where an Empress might hold someone prisoner, though such instances were  
rare.

She gave out a small gasp. "My lord, dare you question the propriety of  
which I keep myself ensconced in? My morals and piety are beyond  
reproach, would you expect any less of anyone put in my charge?" she  
asked in playful reproach.

"I do not recall anything untoward about a young man visiting his mother  
or sister," came the Emperor's smooth reply. "And if the lady he desires  
also happens to be thereâ€¦"

"You really are terrible, my lord."

"Only as terrible as you want, my love."

A short yet dignified snort was the Empress' reply. He grinned and moved  
behind her, wrapping his arm around her middle. "...And only as terrible  
as you allow me to be," he added, nibbling along her ear.

"It's not hard to see where our son gets his charm," she whispered as  
she tilted her head to give him easier access to her neck.

"Doubtless he is using that charm on his princess." Idly, Imonje  
wondered if his son had also inherited a taste for women of lighter hair  
and eyes. His time in Corona had been a harsh lesson for Kuoji. Many in  
Atyamai were familiar with the tales of Coronan prejudice against  
others, but Kuoji had experienced it firsthand and carried a keen  
passion that had spawned from the resentment he harbored towards those  
who would unfairly judge someone.

The lost prince, after some adjustment, was quick to learn the ways of  
his father's people. He was a demanding student, constantly asking more  
of his teachers while shaking off various Coronan mores that had been  
ground into him since he was born. Many cynically said that he was doing  
it to please his father and become his favored child.

While Imonje did not doubt that his son desired his love and approval,  
he knew that Kuoji did it for his own betterment. Placed in the lap of  
luxury, the Crown Prince made the most of his opportunities, and had  
indeed proven himself more than worthy of the Tekura name.

o0o

Kuoji was silent as he observed Sialen on one of the walkways that  
overlooked the main courtyard. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows  
across the space, and Sialen had sequestered herself into their dark  
canopy. Below them, a nobleman was leaving after having traveled here  
from the northwestern regions of Corona. Several Atyamainese guards  
stood around, watchful of their surroundings and the people moving  
around them, and a supply cart pulled in through the tunnel.

Turning his attention away from the inspection of the wares on the cart,  
Kuoji walked over to where Sialen was. She was staring off thoughtfully,  
and was an elegant sight in dark blue and pale green. He looked around,  
seeing that her companion was not with her.

"Greetings, my princess," Kuoji whispered, leaning over so she could  
feel his warm breath on her ear and temple. There was a faint whiff of  
lilac before Sialen stepped away and turned to face him.

"Good evening, Lord Tekura," she responded, bowing to the correct degree  
required of her given their respective stations.

"How has your day been thus far?" Kuoji inquired as he saw the sparkle  
of a diamond hanging from her ear. Atyamainese typically did not pierce  
their ears, but the practice of wearing jewelry in one's ears was one  
that Sialen apparently was not going to discard, as she'd done for so  
many other Coronan trends.

Not that he minded, of course. The earrings drew his attention to the  
soft planes of her jaw and neck.

"Productive," came her reply. "And yours?"

"Busy." He took a slow breath. "Overseeing preparations for the journey  
back to the Islands." He studied her face as he said it, waiting to see  
some sort of hint at how she felt about this endeavor and her part in  
it. In her father's court, Sialen had been referred to as frigid more  
than once, at least behind her back. While Coronan women were taught to  
be reserved and self-controlled, to balance out their 'female weakness',  
Sialen had taken that lesson and used it to form a different kind of armor.

This icy demeanor, tempered with stubbornness and sarcasm, had been  
Sialen's greatest defense against those who would seek to bully her.  
People who expected to see her weep or bow her head in shame were  
confronted with a steely gaze and either cool silence or a carefully  
aimed if st times overly subtle barb.

Sialen had regarded her new superiors with that same self-control,  
albeit with much less sarcasm. Kuoji could see that she clearly  
respected him and Azami and he had no need to worry about her having any  
wishes to restore Corona to its old glory. Still, Sialen maintained a  
certain reserve around her suitor. Kuoji had made several gestures to  
her over the last few weeks, trying to thaw out the ice in her heart. A  
bouquet of flowers was met with a warm, gracious thank you and a smile  
before she turned away as if afraid of letting him see her face. A black  
and blue Atyamainese woman's robe was met with a similar result. Moments  
alone with her was a rare treat, even though Atyamainese society  
afforded much more freedom to women than the Coronans had, including  
having visitors or seeking privacy.

Their eyes met for a moment before she casually glanced away. "Much of  
my packing is done," she commented. He nodded briefly.

"Is there something you would like to discuss with me?" he asked. Even  
around him, with his confidence, she often seemed hesitant to discuss  
her innermost thoughts.

"Not about the journey, but..." She hesitated for a moment. "Mother and  
Stella wish to attend a service."

He raised his eyebrow, and she shrugged. "It has been a while since she  
has been with her husband and son."

Kuoji was silent for several moments, pondering the options. The Tekuras  
would not endorse the Way of the Light, but people were allowed to pray  
and keep shrines in their own homes. He did a quick mental count, and  
realized that a Father's Day was the next day. Every seven days, this  
day was observed as an extra remembrance of one's service to the  
Heavenly Father and how best to walk the Path of Light. For most, this  
meant going to the nearest church or temple for services.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I do not see the harm in letting them be together. They are kept under  
close guard and the Earthfather could hold services in his cell. He  
would wish to hold it in a proper chapel, but..." She shook her head,  
smiling faintly.

"I remember services well," Kuoji replied dryly as he looked down at her.

"I am sure you were no more fond of them than I."

At that comment, he did not hold back a grin, and was gratified to  
receive a small but warm smile in return.

o0o

Mother was sitting near the window with Jacinthe and Stella, working on  
a quilt. Like her aunt and cousin, Jacinthe had sunny blonde hair and  
blue eyes, and looked more like Selestia's child than Sialen did.  
However, her personality was much closer to Sialen's own, and the new  
heir of House Fiori welcomed the changes that the Tekura had brought  
with them. She was quick to bend the knee to Azami, and many could see  
the happiness and relief in her features despite her quiet dignity when  
swearing fealty to the ideals of the Atyamai Empire.

Jacinthe had traveled from the Fiori ancestral keep of The Meadows upon  
receiving Sialen's summons, which had been affixed with Kuoji's seal.  
After a visit and interview with her cousin, Sialen had decided to make  
Jacinthe the heir of House Fiori and the considerable lands that made up  
the Green.

In the Coronan language, 'lord' and 'lady' differentiated the genders of  
the highborn. However, in the language of Atyamai, there was no  
gender-specific word to denote the head of a family unit. The closest  
translation in the Coronan language would be 'Lord', and that was what  
Jacinthe was now. She'd also done well in in her meeting with Lord  
Starsmore to discuss the relationship between their houses.

Naturally, there were people who objected to a woman being in such a  
position of power. Grandfather had been apoplectic with rage that the  
headship of such a long-standing and esteemed bloodline should be put in  
the hands of one granddaughter, and then another! He'd been brought to  
the throne room with the rest of the former royal family to witness  
Jacinthe's bending of the knee. Fortunately, at this point, he'd learned  
to begrudgingly accept his new circumstances â€“ at times, at least â€“ and  
had not made a scene.

After exchanging greetings with her family, she pulled up a seat after  
Jacinthe obligingly made room for her.

"Mother, there will be a service on the morrow," Sialen commented as she  
picked up the edge of the quilt, examining it. Quilts were seen as a  
practical means to economy, making warm bedding from discarded garments  
and cloths, and it was a means for women to gather and exchange the  
latest gossip. "Our hosts graciously extend the invitation."

"Will you be attending?" Selestia asked as she pulled the needle through  
a patch of fabric.

"I know I will be. My faith has been tested, and I welcome the  
opportunity to strengthen my faith," Stella replied primly after several  
moments of silence. Selestia's disapproval was palpable in the continued  
void that followed Stella's words, and Sialen took a slow breath.

"This is a really nice quilt," Sialen finally commented. As quilts were  
often comprised of cast-aside or out of style garments, the quilts of  
the upper classes tended to have nicer materials. High-quality wool,  
thick linen, rough and fine silk, gossamer, and velvet made for quilts  
that could be used as showpieces.

"But you've never cared for it," Stella said. Sialen slowly turned her  
head to regard her younger sister. For as long as she could remember,  
Sialen had found sewing to be frustrating, and the fine attention needed  
for embroidery made her head and eyes hurt. She was middling at  
knitting, but her success at crocheting was laughable.

"That does not mean I can not appreciate the work that went into this,"  
she replied, determined to maintain her calm. On occasion, Stella would  
try to impress their parents with her good behavior, and this might  
include pointing out her older sister's behavior.

"When was the last time you attended service?" Selestia asked. "Come  
with us, and spend time with your family. If not for the Heavenly  
Father, then for me."

It was not the first time Mother had made such a statement, and though  
Sialen deeply resented it, she was not surprised.

"I have better things to do than listen to the scoldings of a foolish  
oldâ€¦ cur."

"You dare speak of the Earthfather that way!" Stella gasped. Jacinthe  
was silent, lightly chewing the inside of her cheek.

"I came here to spend what I was hoping might be a pleasant time with my  
family, but I can see that is not about to happen. I have told you  
before, I do not follow the Way of the Light. I wish you two would  
realize just how detrimental it has been to the two of you, and  
countless other women. Enjoy your meeting." She pushed her chair back  
and rose to her feet, leaving the room in a swish of linen and rough  
silk. After regarding her aunt and cousin with a frown, Jacinthe quickly  
followed her out.

o0o

Azami was an impressive woman. She bore a cool confidence that did not  
waver in the heat of rages directed at her. With her half-lidded gaze,  
it was hard to not liken her to a snake that lay coiled in wait, unseen  
until you felt the pain of their bite.

She rode tall on a stallion that was the color of ink at night, glinting  
like polished obsidian in the sunlight. Sialen and her cousin  
accompanied her, along with a maidservant and a couple of guards  
following the trio at a respectful distance. The late afternoon sky  
would soon be complemented by the light of a near-full moon.

It had been a bit of an unusual experience for Sialen to ride astride a  
horse, like a man. In Coronan tradition, it was proper for a woman to  
ride sidesaddle, as a way to ensure that they had proof of virginity on  
the wedding night. Azami had snorted when Sialen explained this to her.  
/'So a tiny bit of flesh is more important than a woman's neck? That's  
quite a bit of fuss for so-called virtue!'/ she had retorted.

/Well, it's difficult to argue with that logic/, Sialen mused as she  
lightly pressed her thighs against her own gray-dappled horse. The dress  
she was wearing was shorter, with slits up to her mid-thighs to  
facilitate riding in this style, and a pair of comfortable leggings  
maintained her modesty. Jacinthe had been lent similar attire.

Part of the river that ran through the city had been diverted into a  
man-made lake and several waterways, with landscaping and trails in the  
vicinity surrounded by the manses and villas of the wealthy.

They came to a stop at a wide, grassy area that overlooked the lake. The  
horses were reined in and left to graze while the women stood near the  
middle of a design of a sun that formed the design of the cobbled stones  
at their feet. The stones had been here for a very long time, as evinced  
by the grass that grew between the rocks. The vista before them was  
tranquil, but few ever had the chance to enjoy this as it was an area  
reserved for the privileged. On occasion, one might hold a wedding  
ceremony here, and the lake was a favored spot for baptism.

The women settled on folding stools that were made of wood and canvas, a  
design originating from Atyamai. A folding table was set between them,  
and laid out with tea cups and containers with various foods. There were  
mixed nuts, sweet dumplings, and vegetable egg rolls. The tea was cool  
and lightly sweetened with honey.

"I have a question for you, if I may," Jacinthe said after having a  
couple of bites. Azami nodded her assent.

"I've always been curious about history. However, it should not surprise  
you to know that Coronan history is oftenâ€¦ biased. I would like to know  
your storyâ€¦ I mean, the story your family and people have, of how your  
empire was founded?"

That was a good question, and one that Sialen hadn't thought to ask.  
She'd learned some of the history of the Atyamai, but the matter of the  
rise of the Dark Hand was something that had not been broached.

Azami stared off silently for a moment before returning her attention to  
her companions. Slowly, she raised her hand, fingers stretched upwards,  
palm facing the younger women.

"Over two thousand years ago, the Islands were not one unified land.  
Five clans held control over the Islands, and conflicts were  
inevitable." She curled in all her fingers but for the pinky. "This clan  
ruled the smallest of the main islands. Given the size of their lands,  
they were often overlooked by the other four kingdoms. Given the Toid  
clan's seeming insignificance, when the other clans warred with one  
another, the Toid lands were generally overlookedâ€¦ or was pushed to  
support one side or the other. This had gone on for centuries, and one  
day, to this clan was born a daughter, Nagadiu. She was a very wise  
woman and a skilled magician. She wearied of having her clan and lands  
under constant threat. She was the only surviving child of the clan  
leader, so when he died, she became Queen of the Toid lands. She knew  
she needed allies to keep the peace, and pursued a marriage with the  
oldest son of the leader of the next biggest clan." Azami lifted her  
fourth finger.

"Was the marriage successful?" Jacinthe asked. Azami smirked faintly.

"No. The Awi clan laughed her off." Azami's forth finger curled back  
down, and her third finger lifted. "Nagadiu then approached the  
next-largest clan, the Odi. She received the same rebuff." Her third  
finger dropped, and her index finger lifted.

"After being rejected twice, most would decide against pursuing an even  
larger prize," Jacinthe commented.

"Or three times."

Sialen raised an eyebrow as Azami then lifted her thumb. "By this time,  
the leader of the Duro Clan had heard of her attempts to ally her family  
with one of the other main clans. He invited her to his palace to see  
this woman who only turned her gaze higher at every attempt to block her  
aspirations. The king asked her why she had done what she had done. She  
told him that as a leader of her people, it was her duty to do what she  
could do for them. Alliance with a bigger kingdom would benefit her  
people." It was as simple as that, especially to one who had lived  
through two wars between the various clans and had heard oft enough from  
her parents and grandparents of conflicts in their own youths. It was  
frowned upon to force a woman into a troth agreement, but the truth  
remained that at times, marriages for alliances had more purpose than  
marriage for love.

"The King was impressed with her honesty and pragmatism, and proposed a  
match between her and himself. He already had several children from a  
previous wife, but he was a widower, and his protection would ensure  
peace for her people, and the heir to the Toid clan would have the blood  
and backing of the Duro clan." Azami now held up her pinky and thumb.

"When another war broke out between the Odi and Awi, the Toid lands had  
the protection of the soldiers of the Duro kingdom. Nagadiu saw many  
things in the lands of Duro that she knew would benefit her people, so  
she brought her countrymen to her husband's palace and bade them to live  
and learn the ways of this powerful kingdom. She bore the King several  
children, and the Toid lands were better able to defend themselves  
against the fighting of the other clans. A generation passed. Nagadiu  
knew her work was not done. She matched one of her daughters to the  
leader of the Awi, a man who was in no position to deny the proposal  
after his father's defeat and subsequent death at the hands of the Odi.  
Now three of the clans were tied to one another through kinship, and  
Nagadiu was quick to remind people that slaying your own kin was a  
terrible crime, one belief that all the clans shared."

"And..." Sialen lifted her hand, thumb, pinky, and fourth finger  
pointing upward.

"Precisely. Even after her death, Nagadiu's work was carried on. Her  
grandchildren completed the circle of kinship to unite all five clans.  
Her great-great-granddaughter established a new house that incorporated  
the bloodlines of the five clans, naming it Tekura. She chose the hand  
because it is when all fingers work together that any task, great or  
small, can be accomplished." All of Azami's fingers were now upraised in  
the same shape of the ubiquitous dark hand on the Tekura coat-of-arms.

Women had been integral to the history of the Atyamai, and the men of  
that exotic land were happy to accept that. Even over a month of  
spending time with these people on a daily basis, Sialen still mused on  
occasion of their view of women as opposed to what she had been raised  
to believe.

o0o

Jacinthe Fiori blinked as she patted her face dry with the towel that  
had been left for her by the maid. Although observation of the Father's  
Day was no longer compulsory, she had decided to attend her family's  
gathering nonetheless. Part of it was out of habit, but she also wished  
to observe her family. Sometimes she could not believe that she was now  
heir to one of older and most powerful houses of Corona. In the eyes of  
the Atyamai, she had much higher rank than her uncle, the former King,  
or her grandfather, the former Lord of the Green.

She turned away from the mirror and chose a plain blue under-dress with  
a simple but elegant cover of deeper blue embroidered with white roses.  
It was modest garb that was appropriate for a woman at a Father's Day  
service, but then, the stricter adherents of the Way of the Light often  
dressed like this outside of church.

She'd been given Stella's former quarters to reside in, which put Sialen  
within her easy access. After she'd dressed, she walked down the hallway  
to her cousin's rooms, giving the guards polite nods. She did not have  
to wait long, and Sialen emerged from her apartments in a dress of dark  
green-gray contrasting a deep rose. Sialen's eyes moved along her attire.

"I'm sure that if there is anything to report, I will be notified."  
Sialen said. Jacinthe nodded as they walked down the hallway, making  
their way to breakfast.

"The Earthfather is bound to say something about you in his sermon."

"I can see I won't be missing anything worthwhile," Sialen replied  
dryly. Jacinthe smiled faintly as a servant poured her a cup of coffee.  
Though she had come to enjoy the teas the Atyamainese liked for a late  
sup, she still preferred coffee in the mornings.

She was escorted to the dungeon by a plain-faced guard who had a  
passable command of Coronan. The prisoners were congregated in one of  
the larger dungeons, and Atyamainese-style folding chairs had been  
procured for its occupants. She regarded the Earthfather's sullen glare  
with cool silence as she sat down, arranging her dress comfortably.

"I can see the prodigal one will not be joining us. At least I know  
there is hope for you yet. Not as much as the Heavenly Father would  
like, though," the Earthfather said. His beard was growing back now, but  
looking considerably more straggly than before.

She did not deign to reply to this. She knew that in the Earthfather's  
eyes, it was only proper for her and Sialen to give up their claims to  
House Fiori and its holdings, and give it, as the Heavenly Father  
intended, to their closest eligible male relative. Unsatisfied with her  
silence, he plowed on.

"I will begin with a prayer." He lifted his hands over his head,  
appeasing to the dark ceiling above him, the candles flickering around  
him. He was clad in a plain off-white robe, the most his hosts would  
give him in way of religious attire. Gone were the white satin robes  
with the blue and gold embroidery, or the gem-studded staff that  
signaled his supreme rank in the earthly order of the Way of the Light.

"Heavenly Father, thank you for allowing us to be here today, as a  
family. Lead us in your holy light, and touch the hearts of those who  
have turned from the way, or are in danger of turning from it," he said,  
his eyes flicking to her at this last sentence.

"I came here for Father's Day, not to have you try to take charge of my  
personal affairs."

"I am the Earthfather, and it is my duty to remind you, and others, of  
the word of the Father. His words are to be considered by us every day,  
but it is on this day of days, every seventh day, to carefully  
contemplate His word and the advice he has given us to guide our lives.  
If there is any time to think about how He would regard your affairs, it  
is now."

It seemed to take an almost herculean effort for Jacinthe to not roll  
her eyes. "I am sure that He would be pleased in my efforts to help the  
poor. House Fiori has so much, and there are people with so little.  
Doesn't the Book of the Light remind us that kindness is a virtue?"

"Silence, girl!" Bachis hissed. Once upon a time, Jacinthe would have  
never dared to argue with the Earthfather. However, what was she doing  
but pointing out a simple truth? Her point having been made, she chose  
to maintain the peace, and made no reply.

Sermons generally focused on a topic that was relevant to these times.  
More than once had there been a sermon on how the Coronans had been  
created and blessed by the Heavenly Father to bring light to a dark  
world, and how the Atyamainese represented that darkness. Despite their  
current circumstances, the Earthfather was convinced that the Father's  
favored ones would be rewarded for their trials. After all, the longer  
the Atyamainese enjoyed their victory, the more bitter their inevitable  
fall would be! The Father was simply biding his time.

"After all, does the Father not tell us that there will come a time of  
great tribulation, in which His children will inherit the earth after  
their woes? I say that time is nigh!"

The sermon ended with another prayer. Growing up, Jacinthe had always  
attended services in lavish churches or well-appointed private temples.  
She looked around the room, seeing the other occupants. She was the most  
elaborately-dressed one in the room, even though her attire was  
relatively modest by the standards of the highest-born women of Coronan  
nobility. The only things the holy man had been given for his services  
were candles, a small statue of the Father, and a folding table on which  
to put the icon.

Jacinthe was the first to rise from her seat. Selestia and Stella would  
be escorted back to their own apartment. She saw little reason to linger.

"Tell your cousin that I need to see her," she heard the Earthfather say.

"All you can do is make a request," Jacinthe retorted coolly. "I will be  
sure to relay your message, but you will be permitted to meet with her  
at her own discretion."

Although Jacinthe had been generally well-regarded due to her fair  
looks, and her skill at many of the approved pursuits for noblewomen,  
her generally mild personality was but a veneer for an intelligent mind.  
In the past, she had found much subtler ways to exercise her defiance.  
Now though, she could make direct arguments to their statements and  
expect no reprimand â€“ at least not from anyone that could punish her.  
Grandfather might yell and rave, Marc Fiori would berate her in the name  
of the Father, and Uncle Helios would remind her of the loyalty one must  
have for Corona, but as a citizen of the Atyamai Empire, she stood on  
equal and higher footing than any of them.

Grandfather scowled at that. "That child is in need of firm guidance â€“  
and not from the dark hand! Divine justice awaits her. I knew she was a  
troublemaker from the first I set sights upon her! She was just four,  
and she refused to curtsey to me when I commanded her to! Feh!"

"I am sure she would have curtsied to you if yourâ€¦ request had been  
gracious." Bachis Fiori was known for many things, and one of them was  
his demand for absolute obedience, particularly from members of his  
family. He had been Lord of the Green, and in the system ordained by the  
Heavenly Father himself, he was the undisputed master of his domain.  
This led to a certain lack of grace when speaking to his underlings and  
family members alike, especially women. "Be assured, I am certain that  
her family is never far from my cousin's mind." She regarded her aunt  
and younger cousin with pointed glances. "The Tekuras have been gracious  
hosts. My bended knee has earned continued good fortune for our house.  
You may feel otherwise, but I will not be a martyr for your cause." She  
glanced at the leather-bound book that sat at the side of the icon on  
the small table.

"The Lords Tekura could have chosen to not allow you to have the Book,  
or that icon. They could have kept us all separate. But despite your  
continued abuse towards them, they give you these allowances. Consider  
that with how you would treat an Atyamainese family if you had them  
prisoner. There is no need to lecture me on honorable behavior."

"The Book of Light tells us that women must listen to and obey men and  
the laws He passed to us! The Dark Sister works through the Atyamainese,  
and is even now snaring you and your cousin in her trap! Guard  
yourselves well."

"The welfare of my character and propriety are never far from my mind,  
you have my word on that." Jacinthe took a deep breath, considering  
adding something about the hypocrisy she'd seen in men claiming piety to  
the Father. She closed her mouth, having no interest in further  
argument, and turned to leave the cell, striding down the hallway, her  
skirts rustling before her.

According to Coronan mythology, the Dark Sister was the younger sibling  
of the Heavenly Father, and bade to serve him by the Light. However, the  
Dark Sister rebelled against her proper position in the grand scheme of  
the universe and turned from her brother, vowing to engulf the world  
with her darkness. This myth also was the basis of several of the rules  
towards woman in Coronan society. When a head of a family passed away,  
his heir gained custody of any unmarried sisters, as well as custody of  
children of a deceased brother. And custody meant control. The Book  
cautioned brothers to keep strict guardianship over their sisters,  
ensuring that they carried out the Heavenly Father's will on earth.

She was also seen to be the instigator of any and all feminine  
rebellion. As the Dark Sister had rebelled against her wiser brother and  
the natural order of things, so she encouraged mortals of her gender to  
do the same. /Guard your hearts and souls against the Dark Sister as she  
whispers into your ear at night/, was an admonishment often given to  
girls. Jacinthe had always thought it was funny that a girl was told to  
guard her heart and soul, but not her mind.

o0o

Apologies for the slow update, I'd been working very hard to get my  
next novel, Worthy of Love, ready for publication, among other projects. I hope you enjoyed  
this chapter! I commissioned a beautiful picture of Kuoji and Sialen,  
you can find it on my Facebook (the link is in my profile) I will do my  
very best to ensure that the next chapter is not as long in coming, and  
I thank my beloved readers and fans for their support. Have a wonderful day!


	9. VI

Moonshadows

IX

o0o

Sialen rode beside Kuoji in an easy canter, her horse keeping up with  
the Prince's brisk pace. Over the last few weeks as she'd learned to  
ride astride, she'd become more confident in this riding style, her  
thighs becoming less sore after each ride. She'd been pleased to note  
the firmness of these muscles when she bathed, along with the developing  
muscles in other parts of her body from the exercises she did with Sana.

It seemed practical to her, to better herself with the opportunities  
given her. Walking was considered an appropriate activity for a lady in  
Coronan culture, but not activities like archery, running,  
weight-lifting, sword or other weapons fighting, and the like.

From her efforts at various activities Kuoji and others introduced her  
to, she discovered that, at least so far, she was middling in archery, a  
fair hand at horseback riding, and showing promise at hand-to-hand  
contact, although she was still easily bested by her teachers. Sialen  
had never enjoyed most of the pursuits approved for proper ladies in  
Coronan society, but she was not very much of a rough-and-tumble person,  
either. The swords she'd tried to practice with, even the light wooden  
ones, felt awkward in her hands, and though she might not mind sending  
an arrow to a piece of wood, she was certain she would never be able to  
shoot an animal.

Although her hosts had been kind, Sialen often felt as if she didn't  
belong amongst them, either. Centuries ago, her ancestors had invaded  
this land and wrested control of it from its former inhabitants. Over  
the decades, they'd taken more and more land, adding to their empire and  
spreading the Way of the Light amongst their conquests. Logically, she  
knew that she had had nothing to do with that, nor did she believe in  
the teachings of the Heavenly Father, and the Atyamainese were aware of  
that. One irrefutable fact remained â€“ she was of the conquered class.  
She did not doubt that the Atyamainese enjoyed their victory. She'd  
overheard conversations, and with her increasing command of Atyamainese,  
was able to glean an understanding of how many of them thought.

The Way of the Light was mocked, as she well knew. The rule was that  
people were supposed to worship as they wished in the privacy of their  
homes, but there were stories of Atyamainese soldiers laughing and  
poking fun at Coronan citizens who tried to preach the Way of the Light  
to them. There had been several reports of violence, from clergy and  
citizen alike against soldiers. Not that it surprised Sialen. Her family  
was but a few of a good number of people who still resented their new  
rulers.

Her mind meandered along these paths, and others, as her body swayed  
slightly with the pace of her horse. Her group was officially on a  
hunting expedition, though several members had nothing to do with it.  
Harlan Starsmore and Eman Eiviz were both falconry enthusiasts, and had  
brought their birds with them on this trip. Kuoji and Sana, and a couple  
of others, had bows and arrows. However, at the moment, all of them were  
riding along pleasantly, enjoying the mild weather as their horses  
roamed the gently rolling hills of the royal preserve.

Her eyes moved as they caught sight of an upraised arm ending in a  
glove, and she looked upward to see a falcon gracefully circle the party  
several times before landing on the leather-covered forearm.

The bird flapped its wings several times as it settled onto Lord  
Starsmore's arm, and Sialen stared at it. She'd always admired the  
birds, but as a woman, falconry had been forbidden of her by Coronan  
mores, and her own father.

"Magnificent creature, isn't he?" she heard Lord Starsmore ask as she  
stared at the bird, and she turned her attention towards the man.

"Yes. They really are beautiful animals."

Lord Starsmore regarded her with a faint but paternal smile. "If you're  
so interested, falconry is an honorable pursuit among men /and/ women in  
the Islands."

"You've been to Atyamai?" she asked with surprise. Despite him being in  
close corroboration with the Atyamainese for many years, it would still  
have been difficult for him to travel from Corona to enemy lands without  
being detected, or his absence being noticed.

"I think I can guess at what you are thinking. And yes. It was risky,  
but well worth my time. I have been to the Islands but once, and it  
certainly made an impression on me."

She stared at him for several moments as he lightly stroked the bird  
with his free hand. "The Atyamainese have indeed impressed me," she  
finally replied. "I've been studying their history and looking at how  
the empire expanded. And on how these newly-acquired lands were treated.  
And I look at how our own ancestors treated the people who used to live  
in this land." She shook her head. "How is it that one group could be so  
short-sighted, and the other, not?"

"Not all of us were, or are, so short-sighted," Lord Starsmore reminded  
her. "It is true that the transition has brought with it some  
difficulties, but we have the support of much of the populace."

"It's not hard to get people to like you when you tell them they don't  
have to pay tithes anymore."

"The Atyamainese are nothing if not practical. There are more ways than  
one to get what you want, in many situations. In your father's case, it  
was brute force. For others, it was having their debts forgiven. For meâ€¦  
it was simply observing how they lived and interacted with one another.  
I took their lessons to heart and passed them down to my childrenâ€¦  
although of course, I didn't tell them where certain ideas came from  
just yet."

"It can not have been easy continuing to act like one of my father's  
best supporters."

"No easier than it must have been to be his daughter."

She let out a small chuckle as their horses strolled side by side in an  
easy walk. After several minutes, Kuoji came to her other side, and Lord  
Starsmore slowly pulled back, falcon still in hand. Strapped to the  
Prince's back was a quiver and an impressive-looking bow that was nearly  
as tall as she was.

"I can not imagine a lovelier companion with which to share this fine  
day," Kuoji commented as he looked at her with a hint of a smile on his  
handsome features.

"You are too kind, my lord."

"You know I do not flatter. But I don't mind being kind to you."

She felt warmth creep up into her cheeks.

o0o

The party had ended their venture, for the time being. Harlan and Eman  
had captured several creatures with the help of their falcons, and the  
rabbits were now roasting over a fire. He idly watched Eman feed his  
bird a choice piece of the rabbit, and turned his attention back to  
Sialen, who was reclined on a blanket and reading one of the books she'd  
taken from the Imperial Library.

"I was thinking we might take a walk in the woods while our meal is  
being prepared," Kuoji offered as he extended his hand to her. She  
nodded and put the book down, leaving it with Sana as she rose to her  
feet. He led her to the edge of the clearing before she looked over her  
shoulder. "No one else is coming?" she inquired.

"And why would they?" he countered calmly. "Have you any reason to be  
afraid of me?"

After a moment of silence, she shook her head.

The day had become warm under the mid-day sun, but much of the forest  
remained cool under the shade. He welcomed the opportunity to stretch  
out his legs after being on the horse, and was silent for several  
minutes as he picked a path between the trees.

"When was the last time you were here, Sialen?" he asked.

"Quite a few years. I'm not exactly sure." Coronan women were never  
allowed to hunt with men, and the preserve was primarily used for the  
hunting needs and pleasure of the King and his guests. Naturally, the  
restriction had extended to Kuoji as well, for his mixed heritage.

"I've always been curious about where the King went for hunting. The  
King's Forest really is beautiful." At times in the past, the forest had  
been used for firewood, or been over-hunted, but the preserve had been  
well-cared for the last few generations, so its current state was  
overall a happy one.

"Hear that?" he asked. There was the faint bubble of water tumbling over  
rocks. The group had ridden along a stream part of the way to their  
resting place.

"I feel it. Lord Shwato taught me how to sense its presence," Sialen  
explained. Kuoji recalled coming across one of these lessons, as he'd  
been outside for a walk and Sialen was walking around the garden  
carefully with a blindfold as her teacher walked slowly with a cup of  
water in hand. Her steps had been careful and delicate as she navigated  
the walkway in pursuit of her mentor.

"At least I know that if I'm ever lost out in the wild with you, I can  
rely on you to find water for us," he teased. "Of course, in exchange, I  
will be happy to produce fire to keep us warm. Or find other ways to  
ensure our warmth." He looked over his shoulder to see her smirking up  
at him yet blushing.

He made no more suggestions, not wishing to take it too far and disturb  
their peace. Thick shafts of sunlight reflected off the stream as it  
cascaded over several rocks, taking several turns amongst moss-covered  
small boulders.

With a satisfied sigh, he eased himself onto one of the boulders,  
leaving ample space for her. She meandered a bit along the stream before  
crossing it. He watched silently as she strolled along the bank,  
glancing down at the water contemplatively.

"Will you come and sit with me, my princess?" he asked after several  
minutes. After a moment, she nodded, making her way back to him. He  
scooted back some to make room for her, and she slid onto the slightly  
curved surface. A light whiff of her lilac perfume brushed past his  
nose, and he reached forward to gently wrap his arms around her middle  
and pull her close, so she was settled between his legs.

She stiffened in surprise, and he was careful to keep his grip yielding,  
should she desire to pull away. "I only wish to hold you. Does that  
really make you so uncomfortable?" he asked gently as he felt several  
wisps of her pale hair brush against his chin from the breeze.

Silence met him, but so did stillness. He felt her shiver a bit against  
him, and carefully tightened his grip around her middle as if he wanted  
to share warmth with her.

"Doesn't this feel nice?" he whispered.

"Too nice," came the admission.

"I beg forgiveness, but I do not understand how something can be too  
nice." He craned his head, hoping to get a glimpse of her face as he  
lifted his hand to touch her jaw.

She pulled away, and Kuoji bit back a groan of disappointment as he  
fought the urge to hold onto her. She kept her back to him, and he saw  
her shoulders hunch together as she wrapped her arms around herself.  
"The things I feel when you touch me..."

"I can assure you, I feel no less strongly than you do," Kuoji promised  
her. "But I am a man of my word. I would never harm you. I only wanted  
to hold you. If you enjoy it so much, why not allow yourself this  
happiness?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, the sun illuminating the pinkness  
of her cheeks. He held out his arms to her, silently praying that she  
would accept his invitation. His prayers were answered, and he drew her  
in when she slid onto the rock. Her back rested against his chest, and  
looked down, inhaling the scent of lilac. His arms wrapped around her  
middle, and he felt her hands slide on top of his own before coming to rest.

When she leaned her head back on his shoulder, he dared a kiss on her  
temple, and was rewarded with a slight shudder before her fingers curled  
around his hands. Beautiful weather, a natural but elegant setting, and  
the woman of his dreams in his arms, what more could he ask for?

o0o

This chapter was intended to be longer, but what you just read was the first part of what was intended  
to be the next chapter, but as I thought about it, I figured that this  
would be a really nice chapter in itself and a treat for my loyal readers!


	10. X

Moonshadows

X

o0o

Sialen sat to the side, taking notes as Jacinthe oversaw several cases  
in the Mother's Court. Given her impending departure from the country of  
her birth, Sialen sought suitable leadership for the Women's Court.

Having several siblings, as well as several aunts and uncles ensured  
that there would be no difficulty in finding a suitable caretaker and  
heir of the Meadows while Jacinthe was at the Capitol. If anything, the  
young woman seemed more enthused about the work she could do here than  
she was about returning to the Meadows. All's well that ends well,  
Sialen mused. With the difficulties it had come with some of the  
servants and guards over the change in leadership, the former princess  
was glad for one less worry.

Following Sialen's example, Jacinthe had arranged for a buffet for the  
people who had traveled here seeking justice, and in many cases, a  
better understanding of the Atyamainese laws. They had come across a  
wide range of reactions to the new way they were expected to live, but  
that was no surprise given what she was hearing about out in the city  
and the provinces. With the help of Viruch and Dakul, as well as the  
provinces of the Empire that bordered Corona to the east, opposition was  
kept well under control and quickly dealt with.

After the session was over, Sialen retreated to her chambers. Most of  
her things were already packed, and she ran her fingers along the side  
of one trunk. She'd tried to be modest in her choices and quantity, but  
her books added a considerable bulk to her earthly goods.

Slowly turning around, she stared at the walls of the rooms she'd spent  
most of her years in. These rooms had been at times a refuge, or a  
prison. Walking over to the window, she saw the gardens. The women's  
quarters overlooked vegetable and herb gardens as well as the courtyard  
generally reserved for noble ladies when they wanted to do work outside  
in pleasant weather. It was considered proper for women of high breeding  
to socialize in such areas, where they could be guarded against corrupt  
influences. Or so the Holy Book said, anyway. '/And in each home, an  
apportionment to the women, to guard their virtue and work/.' Generally  
interpreted as a room, set of rooms, or even just a corner, depending on  
the socioeconomic level of the family, of course.

She remembered lessons n that yard with her mother and sister, their  
mother reading to them from the Book while she and her sister listened,  
and then often recited passages from the text or were asked questions by  
their mother. She memorized the passages well enough, but often didn't  
agree with them. This would lead to her asking questions that left her  
mother flustered.

Kuoji and Sana had described the Imperial City to her. She tried to  
imagine it in her head, with the help of several pictures she'd seen in  
Atyamainese books, but she was certain that her imaginings were not  
quite like reality, whatever it might be. However well she learned the  
Atyamainese language, regardless of how well she would come to adopt  
their ways and mores, she would be a stranger in a strange land, her  
pale hair and eyes offering indisputable proof of her alienness.

But there was Kuoji. His promises to keep her safe and comfortable. She  
did not doubt he was a man of his word, and she would have Kuoji's  
mother as a mentor and guardian. Of the Empress' kindness she had no  
doubt, having known the queen as Amyra, once upon a time. When Sialen  
considered what her life could have been like had Atyamai never invaded  
Corona, it seemed silly to complain about this new reality.

o0o

Jacinthe bowed her head as she listened to Marc Fiori drone on. One  
might wonder why Jacinthe, having embraced the new way of things as she  
did, continued to attend the old religious services. The young woman  
would have shrugged. Much of the reason was to see her family together.  
Even Sialen was here, having agreed to one last service here in their  
homeland. Marc had been given a firm warning to keep his sermon  
respectful, considering that several Atyamainese, including Kuoji, would  
also be present.

A few Atyamainese were curious about these services, and sat in the  
back, shoulders upright but heads slightly lowered. Sana offered  
translation for the ears unused to Coronan. There were also several  
other priests and workers for the Way of the Light who had been arrested  
for various offenses. To accommodate the number, the service was held in  
the courtyard. The weather was brisk but mild enough, and Marc's words  
carried easily.

Jacinthe did not doubt that the once-influential Earthfather fumed at  
the constraints placed on his subject matter. His sermon had included  
several scriptures about mercy towards one's enemies and the Father's  
forgiveness towards those who repented and turned to the path of the  
Light, but the clergyman was wise enough to not say anything overt or  
inflammatory. His speech was interspersed with several oft-used prayers,  
those who still followed the Way of the Light reciting them with him.

He prayed for himself and the rest of the royal family, for the Heavenly  
Father to keep them safe when they were taken to a different land. He  
prayed for the Mother's kindness and grace, and for the Son and the  
Daughter to help them stand stalwart against the Dark Sister. This was  
the closest he came to expressing his personal hatred against those he  
saw as his oppressors. He lifted his hands, gazing towards the sky, an  
almost ghostly figure in his plain white robes.

The Earthfather would have made his sermon as long as humanly possible,  
but time had been one of his restrictions. The service concluded, and  
guards moved in to escort the Earthfather and other prisoners back to  
the dungeon. Helin turned around sharply as his wife and daughter were  
escorted in the opposite direction before he glanced at Kuoji.

"By sundown on the morrow, I will be absent from the city I have known  
and loved so well my life. Might I beg your indulgence to have one last  
night here with my family?" he asked, sounding surprisingly humble in  
his request. Jacinthe was silent as Kuoji considered the request.

"Very well. If any of your family chooses to spend a few more hours with  
you, they may go with you," Kuoji replied calmly, emphasizing the word  
hours. There was a flash of anger in Helin's eyes as the night was  
reduced to an evening, but he bowed his head.

Jacinthe and Sialen remained where they were, but as she predicted,  
Selestia and Stella accompanied their male kin.

Helin stared at the two remaining women one last time. "This is the land  
of your forefathers, Sialen. And Jacinthe, who knows if we will ever see  
one another again?"

"Good night, Father. I shall see you on the morrow." With that, she  
lifted her chin and turned away.

"Good night." Jacinthe curtsied to her grandfather and uncle.

o0o

Kuoji had proposed a walk, and Sialen had acquiesced, feeling the  
Prince's arm rest lightly on the small of her back. Ever since that  
fateful afternoon in the woods, Sialen found herself tormented afresh by  
her imagination as it took her to places where she knew Kuoji wished to  
go with her. The ncreasing familiarty of his presence and touch only  
provided fuel for the heat that she did not doubt Kuojo knew he could  
ignite within her. In near-total privacy, with shadows surrounding them,  
Kuoji had more than ample opportunity to woo her with kisses and caresses.

Not for nothing had she been known as tie 'ice princess' in her father's  
court. As a highborn maiden, she had been expected to be charmed by the  
gifts that her would-be suitors brought to her, and by their praise of  
her beauty, and their declarations of desire for her. By the rules of  
Coronan society, it was appropriate to bat her eyes and look pretty at  
public occasions, and simper at the attention given to her by men that  
her father had approved of. Gentleness and docility were two admired  
traits of women, but Sialen displayed what was to her parents an  
appalling lack of either.

Boasts of wealth were retorted to with comments about overcompensating  
for what one did not have, or suggestions to use said money for the  
betterment of the poor. Displays of physical prowess and bravado were  
met with remarks that such displays often resulted in serious injury and  
held no tangible reward. Warnings to remember her place as a lady, or  
how it would please the suitor to put her in said place, was met with a  
smile that literally sent chills through her would-be handlers. Attempts  
to establish himself as the more intelligent one would often result in a  
woeful proof of lack thereof with a well-placed argument from the princess.

She was not given prone to weeping or hysterical fits that were seen as  
a typical trait of Coronan women. Despite the limits on the educational  
curriculom of Coronan women, she pushed her education further with  
illicit trips to the library and whenever possible, pilfering books from  
said library. Sialen knew that in a few more years' time, her father  
would have either sent her to a nunnery or taken drastic measures to  
force her into marriage.

These days were now past, she mused. Here was a man who appreciated her  
intelligence and skills, and did not require that she make herself  
appear stupid or meek to satisfy him.

There were several alcoves in the garden created by statues or manicured  
bushes, and Sialen led Kuoji over to one near the rectangular pool in  
the center of the large space.

This would be their last walk in this garden. Though Sialen registered  
the enormity of this change in her life, part of her felt numb. She'd  
done much to distract herself from this impending reality, and the date  
drew ever closer with what seemed only the slightest notice. Until  
tonight, that was.

"How does it feel, to be going back home so soon?" Sialen asked. Though  
he was born in Corona, there was no doubt that he considered the land of  
his father his home.

"It has beenâ€¦ nice being here. As I am now, I mean. But yes, I am eager  
to go back to the Celestial City."

Celestial City. It was a lovely name for the residence of the Imperial  
Family. And it was not called a city for no reason, for its architects  
had been wise to plan out a way for the palace to support itself in both  
times of peace and times of war. In a siege, it could sustain itself  
almost indefinitely. When there was an abudance of produce, the royal  
family could sell the excess to augment the private treasury that helped  
to support the extended family of House Tekura. By all accounts, it was  
a beautiful place, constructed as such to give those who desired  
privacy, the peace they sought while providing space for more gregarious  
members of the family to hold banquets or social gatherings. Kuoji and  
Azami spoke of it with love.

"I am sure you will be happy to see your parents," she ventured. He  
smiled at her.

"And why shouldn't I be? Of course, I will be no less glad to introduce  
you to them. And to show you around."

"I'm sure there are other things you look forward to." There was a lilt  
in her tone that suggested at her meaning.

"Have no doubt of that," Kuoji replied confidently. A bit too  
vehemently, she thought, and a slight frown tightened her face. She knew  
she shouldn't feel so defensive, this was not the first time they had  
broached this delicate subject, and he was honest about his desire.

"Have you really given muchâ€¦ thought to that?" she asked after several  
moments. He blinked and stared at her before giving her a slight shake  
of his head.

"You have always had my candor, my princess. I hope you know that I want  
more than a mereâ€¦ pillowing with you. Back then, I hoped to become one  
of your knights. Then later on, I was making plans to run away, to  
Viruch, perhaps. And I was going to ask you to come with me."

"I don't think I would have said no," she admitted. His fingers traced  
along her jaw, his thumb coming to rest on her chin. "Even though that  
would have been very risky,"

Kuoji let out a small snort. "A half-Atyamainese youth making off with a  
daughter of a Coronan king? It does not take a fool to foresee the  
consequences of getting caught."

"Well, I think things worked out better this way," came Sialen's  
response. The fact that Lucas, a half-breed servant boy had turned out  
to be a son of the ruler of the most hated enemy of Corona was  
extraordinary. Many would ask why Kuoji's mother had not simply come to  
Atyamai or make her existence known to the Imperial Family at any point  
before the Emperor had learned of his former concubine's continuing  
existence. Some said it was because of a rival concubine threatening to  
murder her and her unborn child, or she had been so ashamed of her  
relationship with Imonje that she'd escaped to Corona.

The truth was considerably less salacious, and much more startling,  
Hearing the story had given Sialen a new respect of the woman she had  
once known as Amyra.

"On that, I heartily agree. But my point is, ever since you and I became  
friends back then, I promised myself that we would have a future  
togetherâ€¦ in whatever capacity was possible for us."

She looked down at her hand, seeing her diamond pinky ring glisten in  
the moonlight. "And in our current capacity..." she murmured.

"The possibilities are infinite," Kuoji finished. She felt warm breath  
on her temple before Kuoji pressed his lips there. A soft sigh slid past  
her lips as his hands slid to her sides, pulling her closer before he  
kissed her cheek. She allowed him to tighten his embrace, resting her  
hands on his shoulders as she kept her face turned downwards, blushing  
as she felt his lips move along her cheek, temple, and brow.

Her fingers curled against his shirt, and she inhaled his scent. When  
his lips trailed downward, she strategically lifted her face, keeping  
her lips out of his reach but permitting him her jaw. One of his hands  
slid up to the nape of her neck.

"My princess..." he breathed. The way he purred out his endearment  
caused her loins to tighten pleasantly. He broke from his kissing to  
lightly rest his forehead against hers, dark emerald eyes meeting pale  
sapphire. "You are exquisite. Sometimes I wonder if I am unworthy of you."

She blinked and pulled back a couple of inches before cupping his face  
with her hands. "Oh no my lord, don't say that." She lightly stroked his  
cheeks with her thumbs. "Any woman would be lucky to have you."

A relieved grin broke across his face. "Then let's just accept that  
we're both marvelous creatures, and are therefore a fine match."

Sialen let out a startled giggle at that before relaxing into a soft,  
warm laugh. "I know that I scoff at the Way of the Light, but there is  
something to be said against guarding one's ego."

"It's not ego if it's fact." he leaned down to kiss her cheek before his  
lips trailed downward. She felt her pulse quicken as his lips brushed  
against hers. His embrace on her tightened as he pulled her up against  
himself. She felt his heartbeat under the warm plane of his chest as  
their kiss deepened.

Sialen lost herself in the pleasure of Kuoji's attentions, absorbing the  
heat of his body. /He really is a marvelous creature/, she thought idly  
as she felt him gently suck her lower lip. With what seemed like  
herculean effort, Sialen gently pushed him back,

"I think it's best that we notâ€¦ exhaust our possibilities."

He smirked faintly. "I had no expectations of that tonight, though I  
would have welcomed an invitation." He caressed her cheek, but remained  
where he was, giving her the space she wanted. "I know that my dreams  
will be filled with your scent, and the taste of your lips, and the feel  
of your skin..."

Another stab of heat stilled Sialen for a moment. She could see what the  
clergy of the Heavenly Father had railed against when they warned of the  
'wicked heat of lust'. Though she was not going to call that wickedâ€¦ It  
was far too delightful to be evil.

She rose from the bench, and instead of the now proper Atyamainese way  
of bowing, she regarded him with a curtsey. She knew that Kuoji  
appreciated the graceful way she would pick up her skirts and dip her  
head and knees, and it was a private pleasure between them. Likewise, he  
maintained the tradition of kissing her hand.

"You can be certain that you will not be the only one with pleasant  
memories of this night."

"Perhaps we will share a dream. Good night, Sialen." His utterance of  
her name was like a caress through the air as her hand slid from his.

o0o

Sialen awoke to frantic hissing of her name and a firm shake of her  
shoulder. She groaned softly and the shaking stopped.

"Lady Starsmore!" she heard the voice of her maidservant. She opened her  
eyes to see Sana and Ainna, their faces lit more by the light of a lamp  
than the early morning light that filtered in through the window. The  
note of urgency she had heard urged her from sleep, and she raised her  
head. The gravity of the situation was further hinted at by the anxious  
expression on Ainna's face. Sana on the other hand looked solemn, as if  
there was something she did not wish to reveal.

And amidst of all that, Sialen was aware of distant shrieks.

"What is it?" she murmured as she sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her  
eyes with one hand.

"I'm not quite sure, but something happened in your mother and sister's  
quarters, A guard was sent here. Your presence isâ€¦ requested. Immediately."

Sialen was out of bed before Ainna finished the sentence, and the maid  
rushed about, pulling out a simple dress and robe that her mistress  
could easily dress in. Within several minutes, Sialen was modestly if  
not formally attired, and rushed down the hallway, her robe billowing  
out behind her. Meanwhile, the screams died down, and the guards quickly  
parted to admit her and her companions. Inside, there were several more  
guards, and suddenly shrieks filled the air.

"Don't touch her!" Mother's voice was followed by angry sobs. Feeling a  
rapidly-increasing alarm, Sialen rushed into the bedroom that her mother  
and sister shared. Mother was leaned over Stella's bed, trying to guard  
her from the two Atyamainese men who looked uncomfortable, even chagrined.

"Mother!" Sialen cried out as she approached the bed, wondering if  
Stella had taken ill. Selestia looked up, her eyes red and glassy, and  
Sialen pulled back a step as she saw her sister's face illuminated by  
the light of a candle. Even under the limited light, there was a certain  
slackness to Stella's expression that told Sialen what she had no wish  
to acknowledge.

Sialen approached the bed with an increasing awareness of details she  
normally did not give note to. The pounding of her own heart. The way  
the light from the candle flickered across people's features. The way  
that her sister's hair tended to curl in wisps around her face.

"This is the end of it! I will take no more!" Selestia said with an  
angry hiss.

"Whâ€¦ what?" Sialen whispered as she was confronted with the fact that  
her sister's chest did not rise and fall with each breath. /How?/

She was forced to lean on the wall next to Stella's bed, steadying  
herself before she returned her attention to the dead body before her.  
Her eyes darted around the room, seeing Sana, Ainna, and the guards and  
manservants behind her mother.

"What is the meaning of this?" Sialen asked. "What happened?" she  
demanded. One of the guards looked to Sana before addressing himself to  
Sialen.

"They come hereâ€¦ after religion service. They go to bed. Then  
screaming," he explained in the best Coronan he could. There was a rapid  
exchange of Atyamainese between Sana and the man, and she looked back to  
Sialen.

"It is as he says. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred after the women  
returned here after the Father's service."

Sialen nodded before turning back to her mother. "Motherâ€¦ Mother..." She  
took a deep breath. Stella was dead. Dead. She would not rise out of bed  
and join the rest of her family on their trip to a new world. She turned  
her focus to her sister, seeing the peace that would never leave her  
sister's features. She did not look like she had suffered. Her hair was  
braided back with a blue ribbon, and one hand was splayed loosely across  
her upper stomach, her arm encased in plain but fine white linen.

/Dead. My sister is dead/. Sialen felt another wave of dizziness pass  
over her, and she did her best to fight it. Through the years, her  
relationship with her younger sibling had often been contentious, but  
they were still sisters. Despite the constant friction between her  
family and herself, Sialen still wished that she was able to get along  
with them better. She'd promised herself that she would do the best for  
her mother and sister in their new life, and show them what they could  
gain from what they saw as a stroke of ill fortune.

She took a deep breath. "Mother. She will need to be examined."

"There is no need for them to touch her!" Selestia sounded hysterical.

"Mother..." Sialen bit back a sharp remark, reminding herself that  
Selestia was grieving. "Death is a no less a dignified matter to the  
Atyamainese than it is to us. She will be treated with respect. I am  
sure that Azami will accommodate your wishes, but-"

"They did this to her!" Selestia snapped, rising to her feet. Sialen  
steeled herself, not wishing for another fight with Mother. Over this,  
at this time, of all things!

"Mother-"

"My father and Marc!"

"Eh?" Sialen blinked. She looked to her sister for a moment, eyebrows  
furrowed as she returned her attention to her mother. Selestia whipped  
around, dressed with exacting modesty even in her sleepwear, her hair  
kept in a loose braided bun.

"Leave us!" Selestia said, waving her arm imperiously at all the  
Atyamainese that were staring at her. They did not move.

"Please, leave. Allow me time with my mother. Sana, may I assume that  
others have been made aware of this?" If Sialen had been alerted to  
this, then surely Azamiâ€¦

"Yes, my lady."

"Then, please go." She met Sana's eyes, and the soldier nodded. She  
spoke in Atyamainese to the others, and they bowed before retreating  
from the room, Ainna going with them after a nod from Sialen.

"Mother, what do Grandfather and Cousin have to do with this?" Her eyes  
widened. Poison? But why? Stella represented the various virtues of a  
proper Coronan woman, and a child of the Heavenly Father. All too often  
she'd been pointed out as an example for Sialen to emulate. Her mind  
raced in all directions within the few moments it took for Selestia to  
move to the table near the window. The surface held several bottles and  
containers of various oils and herbal remedies.

One of the virtues extolled for a Coronan woman was industry. Selestia  
had always had a good hand at gardening, and this included herbs with  
which she could concoct various remedies. While professional medicine  
and surgery was seen as the provenance of men, it was acknowledged that  
a woman's remedies had great use around the home, for the Mother was  
meant to be a suitable helpmeet to the Father, not an unskilled  
companion. Selestia also used oils and herbal poultices on her face and  
skin to try to stave off the effects of aging, as did many other noblewomen.

Selestia then opened a jewelry box, which held several pieces jewelry  
that she'd been allowed to keep. Sialen stared at her as her mother  
found what she was looking for, the candlelight reflecting off the glass  
as Selestia held the vial in her hand. With finely-kept nails, Selestia  
tugged open the stopper. /What is she going on about/, Sialen wondered  
as she approached her mother. Had her daughter's death caused a breakdown?

"The laudanum!" Selestia whispered, interrupting her daughter's  
thoughts. It took a moment for Sialen to see that her mother was holding  
an empty bottle, the opening facing the floor where only one drop had  
fallen to the floor.

"Are you telling me that-" Sialen shook her head as she reached out for  
the bottle. It was small, fitting well into her palm, but then, one did  
not need much laudanum for its intended purpose. It was also a  
less-openly discussed remedy for the hysteria and doldrums of ladies, to  
be used for nights when sleep was long in coming, and a woman needed the  
balm of slumber to escape her depression and anxieties.

"I heard her moving about very early this morning. She told me she was  
having a hard time sleeping because of how nervous she was, and I let  
her have two drops of it with a cup of water. I heard her again not too  
long later, but I assumed she simply needed to use the privy."

Poison not from her grandfather or cousin, but by her own hand? Sialen  
slowly turned back to the bed, where her sister lay. There was a bit  
more light in the room as the sun crept up the horizon. That Stella had  
killed herself was incomprehensible. The Holy Book condemned suicide as  
a sin, for only the Heavenly Father could determine the time of your  
death. And Stella had been such an ardent follower of the Way of the  
Light. There was even discussion that she might become a nun, although  
she would have also made an excellent wife and mother given her nobility  
and personality, something that her father, the former King was well  
aware of.

Both avenues would forever be closed off to Stella, Sialen pondered.  
Stella had saw going against one of the Father's teachings as the  
preferable option. That her sister would have considered this crushed  
Sialen more deeply than she had expected, and along with that came the  
first stirring of grief, piercing through the layer of shock. She sunk  
to her knees.

o0o

Azami sat upon the throne as the former royal family was brought before  
her â€“ sans one of its members, of course. Stella's death had been no  
less shocking to her than it could have been for anyone else here, and  
the cause behind it would need to be dealt with.

She would never forget her incredulity as she'd become acquainted with  
her nephew, Kuoji, when she asked him questions about the Coronan way of  
life and their religion. That people could hold such foolish notions as  
mandated by the so-called Way of the Light, shook from her any doubts  
that she might feel about the Atyamainese invading another country and  
claiming it as part of the Empire.

"My investigators have done a thorough study of this case," Azami said  
coldly as she looked down at the two manacled men before her. Even now,  
the pair before her held an insolent mien, their belief in their  
Heavenly Father bolstering them before a person they saw as an infidel  
and representation of everything that was profane to their deity.

"You knowingly and willfully manipulated a young woman to end her life.  
Despite warnings from myself and your guardians to make good use of your  
words, you continue to slander us and abuse our patience. You stand  
accused of that heinous crime, yet you still believe you did the right  
thing? She had her life before her, and the same opportunity as her  
sister to take advantage of our generosity, yet you would not have that  
for her."

"I find it curious that you would feel such concern for one of your  
enslaved subjects. This only proves to me that you wanted her alive so  
that your countrymen could use her for perverted purposes!" the former  
Earthfarther spat out before he glared at Sialen.

Azami was gratified to note that the object of her nephew's desire did  
not blush or flinch at this insinuation, and the blonde woman simply  
stared back at the old man with a slight lift of her chin.

"There are so many things wrong with that statement that I do not see  
the need to waste my time or breath in refuting it. All that is left to  
be done here is to determine your punishments." She shifted around in  
her seat as the court eyed her expectantly, wondering what punishment  
would be meted.

Her gaze moved to Selestia, who like all the other Coronan women  
present, wore mourning colors, black over dark gray or some other drab  
color. It was what Azami had seen on the vast majority of the Coronan  
women here over the last three days. Even some of the Coronan men wore  
black, or accents of it. Amongst the often black or gray-garbed  
Atyamainese, it looked like the entire Court was in mourning. Although  
the Atyamainese had no personal reason to mourn Stella, they  
acknowledged her mother's grief and treated her no differently than they  
would one of their own who had just lost a child.

Unlike her father or cousin, Selestia was not manacled, and even though  
she was no longer queen, was still maintained a certain level of respect  
by servants and guards.

"Lady Selestia, would you please step forward?" Azami asked. Selestia  
glanced at her quizzically but complied with the order.

Azami studied her for several moments. Though a bit thin, Selestia was  
an attractive woman, her smooth face and hands attesting to the comfort  
she had been raised in. Despite her grief, Selestia's eyes were still a  
vivid blue, and the slight redness was barely noticeable. She appeared  
to be the picture of quiet dignity, her hands folded in front of her,  
but Azami noticed the faintest tremble of said hands.

"You have been through much. I know that despite the privilege you were  
raised and kept in, life had its difficulties. I have offered my  
condolences for your daughter, and I will do so again. Your daughter's  
death is a tragedy and I am truly sorry you had to experience it. No  
parent should have to experience such a loss." At the very least, in the  
Blissful Insensate, Stella would be free of the burdens that had been  
case upon her in this life.

"For your entire life, you have been dominated by men. Your father,  
brothers, husband, sonâ€¦ Your actions and beliefs mandated by them and  
their selfish needs. Now your daughter has been taken from you to  
assuage a twisted sense of pride," Azami continued in a firm voice, her  
tone taking on a steely edge. To her gratification, Selestia did not  
offer an argument, as she might have a month ago.

"You are a daughter, wife, and mother wronged. Even now, your daughter's  
murderers refuse to acknowledge their sins."

At that, Selestia's eyes furrowed, and her lips tightened â€“ not in  
disagreement, but righteous anger.

Although Azami sympathized with Selestia, as a ruler, she knew her  
actions held import. She would make an example of Selestia, for she knew  
that this whole case would be talked about for years to come. Stella had  
been told in no unclear words by the Earthfather, with the support of  
her grandfather, that dishonor awaited her in Atyamai and to keep  
herself pure for the Heavenly Father was of utmost importance. The  
weak-willed young woman had done â€“ what she had been indoctrinated to  
believe â€“ the proper thing.

Azami did not doubt that the two men had exploited her malleability not  
simply out of some twisted sense of virtue, but to gain a victory  
against the Atyamai, however hollow it might be.

"What would you consider justice, Lady Selestia? Would you have them put  
to death?" Azami asked. Selestia stared back, her eyes widening. Azami  
offered her a thin but encouraging smile, and continued. "I offer you an  
opportunity that you know would never be yours in the old days. You were  
wronged, so tell me how this can be made right."

Selestia was quiet for several moments, and Bachis and Marc Fiori stared  
at her incredulously for a moment less before they started speaking.

"The Mother is merciful, as ordained by the Heavenly Father!" Marc  
beseeched. At a hand gesture, the guard behind Marc quickly knocked him  
down, effectively cutting off the rest of his words.

"Stella made her choice. She chose to leave this world in a virtuous  
state-" Bachis was cut off in a similar way.

"I know what I want," Selestia said after turning around to regard her  
father and cousin. "Death would only hasten them to the embrace of the  
Heavenly Father and I will do them no favors. You hear them, even now,  
with no mind of their tongues. It was with their tongues that they drove  
my daughter to death. Let them be removed of them so they may not use  
them against anyone else."

Sialen stared at her mother with shock, and Kuoji raised an eyebrow.  
Azami had been prepared for a variety of responses, but not this. She  
composed herself and gave a brief nod.

"You are correct, executing them for something they did in the name of  
their belief would only martyr them. Ensuring that they can spit out no  
more venom would make everyone around them much happier, I imagine."

Selestia gracefully lowered her knees as she picked up her skirt,  
regarding Azami with a respectful curtsey. In response, Azami bowed her  
head.

o0o

Mother walked back to where she had originally been standing, several  
paces from where she was standing with Kuoji, and Sialen found herself  
wondering about her mother's recent words. She knew that Mother had been  
more accepting of her circumstances than her family, but she hadn't  
imagined that this much of an impression would have been made on  
Selestia. Demanding the tongues of her father and the Earthfatherâ€¦ Two  
months ago, Sialen would have believed it impossible for her mother to  
make such words come out of her mouth.

As Mother re-integrated herself into the group, she looked to her side,  
meeting the gaze of her daughter. Mother's face was the cool mask it  
often was, betraying no emotion, and she lifted her chin in the barest  
of nods.

As a brazier was brought to the center of the hall in front of the dais,  
Marc started praying to the Heavenly Father. This time, Azami did not  
command silence, letting Marc rant and rave as the executioner stepped  
forward. The tall, thick-framed soldier towered over the old man as the  
guards forced him to his feet, giving him a sharp blow on his shoulder  
when he tried to kick them.

Deshni's usual method of execution sat against his back, the sheathed  
weapon impressive even in comparison to the dimensions of the large man.  
However, it was a dagger that he pulled from his belt, setting it across  
the brazier, the flames searing the metal.

"Heavenly Father, here I stand before you, your ever faithful servant. I  
have borne all trials and-" While he spoke, Deshni uttered several words  
to the guards in their mother tongue. A restraining hand slid to the  
back of Marc's head, and the executioner stared down at him.

"Stop fight. Or will hurt more," he said, his limited command of Coronan  
being no hindrance in this particular statement and its meaning. Still,  
Marc fought on, trying to speak even as Deshni forced his fingers into  
the gnashing mouth, his thick fingers offering adequate protection  
against the attempts to bite him. With his other hand, he lifted the  
tongs that had been brought in with the brazier, securing it around  
Marc's tongue after he claimed it with his fingers.

Sialen watched all this with horrified fascination. Kuoji crossed his  
arms, a grim, neutral expression on his face. The expression on the  
Earthfather's face was comical, his eyes bulging out of his sockets, his  
face twisted in a horrified grimace as the heated dagger was brought to  
the stretched-out tongue.

A strangled wail filled the chamber as Marc was irrevocably deprived of  
his ability to speak words.

o0o

Bachis Fiori died of a heart attack late that night, making rasping and  
hissing noises as he clawed at his chest, unable to pray to the Heavenly  
Father or curse those he blamed for his woes. Selestia had asked that  
her father's body be sent back to the Meadows so he could be interred  
with his ancestors. Azami obliged with that request.

The former Queen had also asked that Marc not accompany them to Atyamai.  
That too, Azami was happy to respect. Taking the Earthfather had never  
been part of the original plan, and there was very little harm or  
concern about keeping him in the royal dungeons for the remainder of his  
life.

"Is it terrible that I don't grieve for my father?" Selestia asked.  
Azami shook her head. The two of them were sitting out in the royal  
gardens, sharing a meal. Azami would have shared her tea, but Selestia  
preferred the familiarity of coffee. /To each their own/, Azami mused as  
she sipped her tea. Like many Atyamainese, Azami found the taste of  
coffee harsh and bitter compared to the mellower flavors of tea.

"From what I have seen â€“ and heard â€“ of him, I doubt I would miss him if  
he were my parent. According to your older daughter, he never had a kind  
word for anyone."

Selestia nodded slowly. "He said that kind words were the provenance of  
the Mother, not the Father."

Azami shook her head. She'd been thinking about Selestia and what she  
knew of this woman who was similar to her in terms of age and privilege,  
and how different their upbringing had been. In the beginning, Selestia  
had held a bare minimum amount of respect for her new superiors, and  
Azami was glad of the fact that the haughty woman would become her  
brother's responsibility soon enough. However, after over a month, she  
understood her counterpart better and had more sympathy for her. And  
likewise, despite being quietly stubborn in certain aspects, Selestia  
was kinder and more forgiving of the Atyamainese, and had not abused the  
relative freedoms she had.

"Would you like to remain here?" Azami asked.

"Pardon?" Selestia's thin eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"As we have already proved, we can be very firm. However, as we have  
also shown, we are not without compassion. I see no reason why you  
should not be allowed to return to the Green, if that is what you  
desire. Your father no longer has headship of the Meadows, so it could  
be a happier home for you now than it was during your childhood."

"My family, then? What is to become of them?" Selestia finally asked  
after several moments.

"Our plans for them have not changed. If it is your wish to accompany  
them, so be it. You have a choice."

Selestia's face contorted in a rush of emotion before she quickly  
collected herself. "I will admit, when Sialen tried to convince me of  
your generosity, I did not want to believe her. But I have been proven  
wrong, and I acknowledge that. I am aware of what would have happened if  
the circumstances were reversed, and I am deeply ashamed to think of  
what would have happened to you, or others." She took a deep breath.  
"This is a big choice. I know there is not much time left, but may I  
consider it?"

Azami regarded her with a warm smile. "Absolutely."

o0o

Kuoji watched as Sialen sat in the library, absorbed in the text that  
was open before her. Like her mother and many other Coronan women in the  
court, Sialen was dressed in somber colors, and had an ethereal quality  
around her as she sat in the shadows, only her hands illuminated by the  
sunlight that shone in through the tall window. She did not appear to be  
focused on the pages, and stared ahead with a half-lidded gaze.

"Sialen," he whispered. Since her sister's death, they had not spent  
much time together. Sialen had been busy with the funeral preparations,  
assisting her mother, as well as spending time on her own in grief.

"Good afternoon, my lord." Her voice was distant as her gaze slowly  
moved in the direction of his voice. He approached the desk and rested  
his hand lightly at its corner. The air was cool and slightly musty,  
though he had caught the briefest whiff of lemon near the library's  
entrance.

"I have not seen much of you as of late. Of course, with certain events,  
that is understood. Nonethelessâ€¦ I have missed you, and you know your  
welfare is never far from my mind."

She looked back down at the book. "Thank you. I am as well as one can be  
under these circumstances." It'd been six days. Stella had been given a  
modest but respectable funeral and burial, as was befitting for a  
Coronan lady, and the young clergyman who had performed the rites was  
mild in his language. Bachis' funeral was considerably much simpler, and  
the transport that would take him back to his birthplace would have sent  
the old man into fits if he had been alive to witness the simple  
carriage that was typically used to transport the bodies of common folk.

If Stella's death had not happened, they would already be in Yngis, and  
possibly just embarked across the sea to the Islands. Kuoji could not  
help but feel frustrated at the delay. It had been gratifying to look  
down upon those who had seen him as less than human. However, Atyamai  
was his home, and he was eager to return to the land of his father.

"Would you be opposed to me reading here with you?" Kuoji asked. There  
were several other desks in the nook, for scholars to peruse the  
contents of the nearly innumerable books and scrolls within these  
ancient walls. The windows afforded plenty of light in the afternoon,  
making this an idea place for study.

"No. Do as you wish," came the calm reply. Kuoji wandered along the  
walls, glancing at the titles. Deciding on one, he pulled it out. Barely  
glancing at the contents of the book as he opened it and placed it upon  
the desk, he turned his attention to Sialen.

"Remember how you used to sneak books to me? That always meant a lot to  
me." Kuoji recaled the excitement he would feel when his mother would  
hand him a bundle. The exchanges between the princess and servant were  
conducted with great care. The physical spheres that the two moved about  
in rarely overlapped, and Sialen didn't trust a servant to not reveal  
their friendship. Fortunately, his mother was the perfect go-between.  
Being one of the Queen's personal servants placed her in regular  
proximity with the princesses, giving Sialen the perfect opportunity to  
pass books to her, and when Kuoji had occasion to visit his mother, or  
her him, he would receive the book. Returning a book traversed the same  
path in reverse.

It was the Princess that had introduced him to literature typically  
available only to the nobility. Had he been caught with one of these  
books, a severe reprimand would have been the absolute least he could  
expect. He and his mother could have been thrown out of the Palace, or  
imprisoned. And Sialen would have been punished, as well, for  
encouraging a half-Atyamainese bastard to aspire to something higher  
than what Coronan society deemed fit. Yet both of them felt the risk  
worth it, finding common ground in their thirst for knowledge.

"It never seemed fair to me that my brother, who was so disdainful of  
his studies, should have access to material that I knew you would have  
been far more appreciative of."

Kuoji remembered poring over an advanced arithmetic book. Having no  
tutor to help him certainly had made the perusal of the material a  
challenge, but pondering over the equations kept his mind occupied while  
performing the menial tasks of a stable-hand and laborer.

"You already know of my appreciation, my lady. Although I will admit, I  
enjoyed the literature more than the maths."

A faint smile tugged at her lips, and he was gratified to see this  
moment of light-heartedness, and knowing he was the cause of it.

o0o

The banquet hall was abuzz with chatter and music, and one of the guests  
glanced at the Emperor and Empress, their expression neutral, but their  
gaze appraising. It was no secret that the Emperor was eager for his son  
to return home, and though the observer would not admit it out loud,  
there was a curiosity about seeing the royal family of the country that  
had been Atyamai's greatest antagonist for over half a century.

Filthy Coronan dogs. The observer was not privy to certain information  
shared within the more privileged members of the royal family, but he  
understood as much that the mongrels were to be housed within the  
Imperial City. He wondered why the entire family was not put down,  
instead of being allowed to enjoy the generosity of the leader of the  
people that they had sought to abuse and oppress.

Raucous laughter rippled through the air as a lecherous joke was shared.  
The observer's eyes moved over to where the Empress' other child sat  
with her two half-sisters. Like her oldest brother, Princess Aildane  
took after their father. And also like Kuoji, she had the Empress' green  
eyes, only several shades darker, glittering like emeralds under the  
lamps. Her sisters were older than her, having been sired before the  
Empress being rescued from Corona.

Although Kuoji and Aildane's half-siblings were well-treated, their  
education and needs amply provided for, their pursuits encouraged, the  
observer knew that resentment ran deep in certain branches of the  
family. The oldest of Imonje's other children had been the heir  
presumptive, but when Kuoji and his mother were brought to the Celestial  
City, the prodigal son made such an impression on his long-lost father  
that it was not long before he was named Crown Prince, a status that  
Imonje had never bestowed upon any of his offspring up to that point.

Imonje immediately ended his relationship with his mistresses, ejecting  
them from his bed as he declared Hauane Empress not simply of the nation  
but of his heart. The intrusion of Hauane, Kuoji, and Aildane â€“ born  
nine months after Imonje's reunion with the Empress â€“ had disrupted an  
order in the Imperial Court that had been in place for nearly a decade.

The observer conceded to enjoyment of the festivities, taking in the  
fine food and wine as the dancers provided a visual accompaniment to the  
music. The Emperor was not the only one who had grand plans, but the  
observer set aside these concerns for the time being as the dancers  
undulated gracefully, the fine silk flowing along their bodies as they  
fluttered their eyes at the guests over the rims of ornate fans.

o0o

Well, folks. When I started this chapter, I didn't know quite how it  
would turn out, and I am quite satisfied with it. I am definitely glad  
that I split chapter 9 from this chapter, given what happens here. I  
really hope you enjoyed this chapter, I am certain many of you never saw  
this comingâ€¦ a good writer keeps her readers on her toes.

I just released my fourth book, /Worthy of Love/, which is available on  
Nook, paperback, and Kindle. Check out my profile for a link to my  
Facebook page, where I post information about my books and writing, you  
can Like it if you want to keep up with my writings, as I have a few  
Moonshadows-related images there.

Feedback is the kindest thing you can give to an author after you have  
enjoyed their work, and trust me, a few words makes a huge difference to  
someone who has worked hard to bring you something to enjoy. So if you  
liked this chapter, noticed something interesting, or want to give me  
concrit that you think would help me (yes, I don't bite!) please, please don't hesitate to leave a review!


	11. 11

Moonshadows

XI

o0o

It had been a long day in Court, but being the niece, daughter and sister of Emperors had trained Azami well in the arts of diplomacy and patience. There remained people who resisted the new way of things. That was to be expected. The example that she set the first day made quite an impression on her newly-gained subjects, and the governor of the Coronan Province of the Atyamai Empire – nearly a queen in her own right – maintained a firm hand in courtly affairs. She delegated certain tasks to various trusted servants and nobles, and maintained a steady presence at court, regal and exquisite in her somber Atyamainese robes, long black hair usually pinned back and plaited in various styles and set with fine jewelry.  
She knew that some of the more fearful and superstitious Coronans saw her as an incarnation of the Dark Sister. With her black eyes and hair, and preference for black garb, it was not puzzling to see why people like Marc Fiori regarded her with such hate and fear, but at least he could no longer lecture others on their behavior and ignore his own considerable faults. Many Coronan men hesitated to bend the knee to an Atyamainese woman, but the swift discipline she meted for disrespect helped them to overcome their personal objections. It could be frustrating to see that hesitation as a fair-haired man laid eyes upon her for the first time, and her patience was useful in lending the man a moment or two of grace before he got over his shock to give her the proper obeisance.  
But the Coronans were learning. Some of them less quickly than others, but progress was progress.  
“Kuoji, I must speak with you. Come with me,” Azami beckoned when the day was over. He regarded her with a slight bow of his head before following her out the throne room.  
“This is our last evening together.” Azami took a deep breath. Even though everything had already been planned and prepared, the prospect of seeing her nephew leave was again heavy on her heart. She knew it would be years before she saw her nephew. The angry, suspicious half-Atyamainese youth had flourished under the care of his father's relatives, and would make a fine Emperor in due time. And there was something Azami realized she had to discuss with him. It had not occurred to her before, but she had learned very much about Coronan standards, and how the way of the matter was generally viewed in Corona.  
“There are letters and messages. But you are right. Written words are no replacement for a person's voice.”  
“I will miss you, but there is something I must discuss with you. In my time here, I have learned much about the Coronans. Despite the stories you have told me, there is nothing like experiencing it. Not only to be viewed as an Atyamainese, but as a woman...” She shook her head.  
“Isn't that why we're here? To bring light into the darkness of ignorance?” he asked lightly.  
“No. I am talking about touching upon the insensate.”  
Kuoji stopped, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Er, Aunt…” He paused.  
“I'm talking about you, silly boy.” They conversed in Atyamainese, strolling along the walkway that overlooked the courtyard. “And before you ask, no I'm not going to ask questions about your experience. However, there is Sialen.”  
“What about her?” Kuoji asked, his tone deliberately neutral. She regarded him with a small smirk.  
“I am certain she is a virgin. Whether she is or not is no concern of mine, but you are very familiar with the way Atyamainese view these things.”  
“Aunt, you know I respect her-”  
“Hush, boy. What I am asking is, despite your feelings for her, will you allow her to make a choice whether she wants to learn about things… in our usual way?”  
Kuoji's eyes widened as her words made their impact. He blinked. She could see that she needed say no more.

o0o

Sialen set down the quill and looked at the writing she had made on the piece of paper. By now, she knew the Atyamainese alphabet, and how to spell her own name as well as several words and phrases. Coronan writing was more blocky, with the script formed in shorter strokes. Atyamainese writing on the other hand looked almost like pieces of string, the way the letters of one word were interconnected in a flowing script. She'd just copied the phrases that Kuoji had written down for her earlier. Already she'd figured the letters in the words, and sounding out the letters together allowed her to figure out the words, words that she already knew. It was not easy, given that the Atyamainese language was different in many aspects, but she could see the value of being bilingual and would not waste this opportunity.  
She set the quill back in the inkpot and sat back, staring out the window.  
The rustle of velvet told her that she had a new companion, and she looked up, seeing her mother. Unconsciously, she stiffened a bit but relaxed, folding her hands on the paper in front of her.  
“Good afternoon, Mother,” she greeted politely. Selestia approached the desk and glanced down at the papers, her lips tightening for a moment.  
“You are very eager to learn,” the older woman observed.  
“That is a trait I've had since I was a child. But, thank you for the observation nonetheless.”  
“You've also had a sharp tongue since childhood.”  
Sialen regarded her mother with a wry smile. “What are you doing here? Telling me that knowledge is meant for men, and that I am deviating from the path the Holy Father set for us all?” Her fingers curled under her palms.  
“No.” Selestia sighed, regarding her daughter with a faint, disapproving shake of her head. “You do not need to be so cold to your own mother.”  
Sialen's eyes flicked to the window as she took a slow breath. “There were many things you tried to teach me, and failed to do so. However, your grace is something I have learned well. Just… not in the way you wanted, of course. I find icy words to be more graceful – and effective – than a hot tantrum.”  
“They were,” Selestia acknowledged. Hysterics were expected of a woman, as part of their emotional fragility. The gift of nurturing that the Heavenly Father bestowed upon his mate did not come without cost. Sialen remembered as a little girl asking the high priest of the Palace clergy why the Heavenly Father should make women so weak. Why couldn't a woman be loving as well as strong and smart?  
Because the Heavenly Father has a grand design, was the reply.  
But, why? Then men wouldn't need to worry so much about protecting women, she retorted.  
It's all part of the Heavenly Father's plan. The woman was created as his helpmeet, not his equal. One day, you will be married to a noble and do your duty to your father and country, and the Heavenly Father himself.  
Ugh. “I find that the Atyamainese teach more useful things. I might not be very good at sword-fighting, but I can now at least defend myself against an assailant.” Her sparring with Sana had given her some good basics for self-defense. She felt much better with that knowledge, thinking of how it could have helped her in the past, dealing with her brother or other boys and men who had tried to push her around. Other than the inherent weakness of the groin area, there were other places to strike a man that could distract or disable him.  
“That certainly is not a bad thing to know,” Selestia replied. She remained standing, the afternoon glow illuminating the gold in her hair, and even a couple of strands of silver.  
“I hope we might have a talk.” Selestia glanced over at Sana, giving her a polite nod.  
“I need to stretch my legs, anyway.” Sialen waved her hand, dismissing Sana as she rose to her feet. “I am done with the lessons for today.” Her stomach rumbled a bit, reminding her that dinner was nigh.  
She rose to her feet, wiggling her toes before walking several paces and turning back. “So, Mother. What is it you would discuss it with me?”  
“I was given the choice of staying behind,” Mother announced. Sialen blinked, Kuoji had given her no indication of this.  
“Here? But you won't have your family with you.” Unless that had changed, as well…  
“No. I can return to the Meadows.”  
“Oh. Have you decided?” She stared back at her mother. Despite Selestia's softening towards her new superiors, living in Atyamainese would still be quite the change for her.  
“No. A woman's place is with her family. I know you do not agree with the Holy Book, but there is practical wisdom in its pages.”  
Not that much, Sialen mused. But charity towards the poor, mercy towards widows and orphans, and helping people with disabilities were tenets she could not argue with.  
Sialen pondered the ramifications of her mother staying behind. Helin and Solan would be kept under heavier guard, but given the former queen's cooperation with the Atyamainese, there was no doubt she would be afforded greater freedoms. She could lead a comfortable life under the protection of the Tekura, but she knew that Mother probably never would be truly happy as a stranger in a foreign land. However, returning to the home of her childhood without her family was likely to weigh heavily upon Mother's heart.  
“The Tekuras can be very generous, but this...” Sialen shrugged.  
“Do you want me to come with you?” Selestia asked.  
Sialen pondered the question. Did she need her mother? By Atyamainese standards, she had been grown for quite a few years. By Coronan standards, she was still an adult, having passed her twentieth year. She trusted Kuoji to look after her welfare, and by learning the language, it was not as if she would be isolated.  
“Are you really so cold towards me, daughter?” Selestia asked in that faintly reproachful tone of hers that she had used often in the past to reprimand her children.  
“I am not a child, Mother.” She lifted her chin. “Your decision is yours to make, don't decide on my account. Or Father's, either.”  
Selestia chuckled softly at that. “Your father has no need of me. I have borne his children and heir. I have been his queen, but he is no longer king.”  
“I must admit I am surprised, Mother. First the tongues, now this…”  
“Are these changes you disapprove of?”  
“I find it curious that you ask me about how I feel when you have expressed disapproval of me so many times.”  
“A lady does not bear grudges.” It was something Selestia had told her often enough after she'd expressed anger over some hurt or insult, wanting an apology but knowing she was not likely to get one particularly from her father or brother.  
“I will take no more lectures. I am not Stella, and never was,” Sialen said in an icier tone than she had spoken for a while. Faint shock flickered in Selestia's eyes. “I will never enjoy sewing, or memorizing poetry on the virtues of a woman. I will never care for the latest fashions or looking like a sweet, silly, simpering maiden in front of men. My sister is gone, and I will never take her place. By all means, go to the Meadows. Then I will never need to listen to your lectures or nagging again.”  
All the hurt and resentment over the years, the arguments with her mother, the comparisons to her sister, the lack of understanding she'd received after trying to articulate her concerns to Selestia as best as she could only to be brushed off welled up within her chest.  
“I have more of a future in Atyamai than I ever had, or could ever hope for, under the Coronan system. More of a future than you wanted for me, as well.” She stared into her mother's eyes. “I will not beg or cry for my mama to come with me, if that's what you're hoping for.”  
“I-” Selestia let out a low sigh, her hand fluttering to her throat. “I know our relationship has not been easy.”  
“Ha,” Sialen snorted, but bit back further comment.  
“But you are my daughter, and I love you and want you safe. Being a proper woman is not without is virtues. You garner much less ill-will that way.”  
“There's a difference between being kind and being...” She paused, trying to locate the correct word.  
“Pliable?” Mother put in.  
“… Yes.” She nodded quickly. “But pliability was my sister's downfall.”  
“Ours was a society that valued pliability more than kindness, I believe. At least, that is what I have observed. However, your point about your sister is not lost on me, I assure you. But then, I never expected the Atyamainese to become our new lords. Your sister could have gone on through life as she was in the old ways.”  
Sialen stiffened at that, and Mother shook her head slowly. “I do not blame them for what happened to Stella. The culprits have been punished.”  
“I would have appreciated kindness more from you, though,” Sialen retorted evenly.  
“As I would have appreciated more from my father. But that is the way things are. As I have observed the way of our society to raise you and Stella to fit in, so I have observed our hosts and the best way to exist with them. I am not ignorant to the opportunities presented to women and I must admit… I am envious. I will not attempt to hinder whatever education you choose to undertake. But that is not what I came here to discuss.”  
“I meant what I said before. I am a grown woman, and have been promised the guardianship of a man and not only that, but the most powerful family in Atyamai. I am curious about this new land. Do not doubt that I will miss certain things about this place. But I know you do not relish the prospect of a future in Atyamai. There comes a time in life when a parent and their child must separate. I wish you the best of luck and happiness, Mother.” She was genuine in her blessing.  
“I will lose all of my children, then.”  
“We can write letters. And I may come back to Corona some day. I will be sure to visit you. And I am sure that Father and Solan would welcome your loving words.” Oh, Father and Solan would not take this news well, she was certain. Mother would be labeled a betrayer, a whore, and anything other vile insult a woman might be called. Mother did not have to say it, but Sialen knew that the former queen was glad to be free of her martial duty.  
Mother took a deep breath before letting out a slow sigh and nodding as she folded her hands in front of her.  
“What will you do in the Meadows?” Sialen asked.  
“I will romp the great meadows like I did as a child. I will lay in the thick grass and feel the sunlight on my face. I shall have a garden, a bigger one than here at the Palace.”  
“It all sounds so lovely, Mother. Do tell me how that goes.”  
“And what do you intend to do in the Islands?” Selestia asked.  
“I shall continue my magical education. Lord Shwato says I am now a Mage. If I study hard enough, I have the potential for Mastery.” She was excited at the prospect. Her teacher had cautioned her to take care in her ambition, however. Like any aspect of life, magic and scholarship had to be kept in balance. The pursuit of a higher level of magic could come with a great toll for those who neglected other aspects of life.  
“And I wish to study maths. I've been reading the books here, and Kuoji has promised me a tutor, and when I am prepared, a place in the Grand University examinations.”  
“Well, you are safe. And you are happy.”  
Sialen could not help but feel a warm glow at her mother's honest concession.

o0o

This time, there had been nothing preventing the departure of Prince Kuoji and his convoy. The take-leaving was quiet and efficient, though Helin had spat in Selestia's direction as he and his son were led into the caged wagon that was to be their main mode of transportation for the journey to the northwestern coast of Yngis.  
Sana was to remain behind as one of the Court's translators, but Sialen had a firm grasp on the basics of spoken Atyamainese and could make her needs known to guards or servants who did not speak Coronan.  
As she and Kuoji crested the hill, the very same one the army had crossed to conquer the Imperial City, she looked back, seeing her ancestral home jut out into the sky, its white stone and marble as white as a sheet of paper under the sunlight. She understood that there was the chance she might never see it again, and she stared at it for several moments, seeing the shadows at the northern side of the building, bare lines of black and gray amidst the glare of the whiteness.  
On more inclement days or as the mood suited her, she would ride in the carriage, reading a book or enjoying the view. When she was in a more adventurous mood, she would ride the horse that Azami had gifted her, a dark brown horse with a deep chestnut mane. She was a mild-tempered nag of good stock, able to traverse the many miles with relative ease. She and Kuoji would converse on these rides if they were not sitting together in the carriage.  
After five days, they came to a river that Sialen had crossed at least once a year for as long as she could remember. Up to that point and beyond, the road was one that the royal family used to go to Golden Lake when summers in the Imperial City could get muggy. The mountain air was a welcome relief to the royal family and their retinue.  
“Here is the border of the Coronan Province,” Kuoji stated as they approached the bridge, the convoy slowing down alongside the village that hugged the eastern side of the road. On the other side of the road were farm fields, along with encampments as well as several partially-constructed buildings in the Atyamainese style, though somewhat modified to accommodate the usual Coronan building materials of locally-sourced wood, clay, and/or stone. For several hundred years,  
Thend was a quiet but prosperous town, from the income it made servicing the nobles who used this road. These fortunes were now shifting, but from the looks of it, Thend's good fortune would continue, if from different benefactors.  
Sialen glanced at the mountains that peeked at her across the horizon above swathes of wild grass and pine trees. Crossing the bridge would take them into Yngis now.  
The Yngsians looked much like the Coronans, and in fact shared common ancestry. The representatives of the country that she'd seen in the past were indistinguishable from their south and western neighbors but for the cut of their clothing and other cultural mannerisms. The ideological and cultural separation were due in large part to the migration of people to different parts of Aetl. Out of all the people who had migrated south, the people who would become known as Yngsians were the easternmost of these immigrants, hundreds of miles away from other settlements.  
Hundreds of years ago, there had been an exchange of women, to secure ties between the House of Oronac and the several families that held control over parts of Yngis, but it had not fostered stable peace. Having developed on their own for hundreds of years, the Yngsians had no regard for the Way of the Light or certain other Coronan mores, but the families that ruled Yngis had always been able to resist outright war and invasion.  
Some Coronans saw Yngis as a lost younger sibling that needed to be taken back into the family.  
And nearly thirty years ago, this younger sibling had offended the Heavenly Father by making an alliance with the Atyamai Empire. Nearly a decade later, the Coronans punished this wayward sibling, invading the country and annexing it as part of Corona. Soldiers and clergy alike were sent into Yngis to convert its people. And the Atyamai, having been dealing with other crises at the time, was unable to restore these lands to their ally for two decades. Many Yngsians smuggled aboard Atyamainese ships or fled southeast to the nearest province of the Atyamainese Empire, which could be perilous as this required hundreds of miles traveling through enemy territory.  
Those who did make it eventually settled there, becoming permanent resides of the Empire for the foreseeable future. Now, these people could return to their mother land if they chose. And like Viruch and Dakul, Yngis was granted a large tract of Coronan lands, nearly doubling its size. There were few other instances where Sialen could imagine a bigger reversal of fortune. Out of what was left of the original Kingdom of Corona, little more than half remained as the Coronan Province of the Atyamainese Empire, the rest given to Dakul, Viruch, and Yngis. She knew that her father or brother would have never shared victory with others so generously.  
She stared at the open spaces on the other side of the bridge, wondering if Yngis would build their own village on the other side of the bridge.  
She dismounted her horse, and she and Kuoji amongst several other high-ranking members of the group were taken into the inn, where a feast awaited them. She and the portly innkeeper recognized one another easily, for her father had used this as a frequent stopping point on their annual sojourns.  
“Good after, Princess Sialen! I trust the journey has been well for you?” he asked as his wife poured some wine for her and Kuoji.  
“It is Lady Starsmore now,” Sialen gently corrected him. “But yes, the journey has been going well for me. How have you been, meser?”  
“Doing very well, my lady! My family has run this inn for a couple of hundred years, and we will maintain it for hundreds more, regardless of who our guests are. And such gracious guests they are!!” he commented, giving Kuoji a quick but respectful bob of the head. Joachim's accent held a gentle burr to it that would have sounded rustic in the Imperial City, but she had always found his speech pleasant to listen to.  
“It warms our hearts when we know our patronage is welcome. And with the construction going on, you should have more business,” Kuoji commented.  
“It feels a bit odd that Yngis is now literally just across the river. But my great-grandmother was Yngsian, and she was the sweetest woman you ever did know. Well, enjoy your meal, and do not hesitate to shout when you need something!” He gave another nod before retreating from the table.  
Several times, Joachim or his children would bring out extra platters of food or wine. Although the Atyamainese could be quite formal when it came to mealtimes and gatherings, it was also understood that it was best to set aside certain conventions in certain circumstances. Many here ate with their fingers, though they had not eschewed the usual practice of washing hands before they ate. The smell of local herbs hung in the air, interspersed with sharper, pungent odors of spices brought along on the road. The entire dining hall was now filled with Atyamainese as soldiers and servants came in shifts to eat, augmenting Joachim's fare with their own that was being cooked over a couple of outdoor fires.  
Having long experience in hosting large parties of guests, Joachim had prepared well, hiring extra hands to prepare food for Kuoji and his convoy and keep them comfortable for the duration of their stay. Sialen and Kuoji lingered at their table, taking their time to eat while Kuoji discussed several things with the appropriate men. However, there came the time when she was full, and she decided to go outside and stretch her legs, wiping her greasy fingers on the napkin before setting it on the side of her plate and excusing herself.  
This inn was the best in town, used primarily by the well-off citizens who used this important road to traverse the more mountainous terrain. She was familiar with its layout, and walked down one of the lanes, receiving polite acknowledgment from Kuoji's people, and several glances from longtime servants who recognized the former princess from years past.  
Since this was an establishment with a history of serving wealthier clients, the buildings were better than the others they had passed along the road, to varying degrees. The smell of animals or garbage did not permeate the air on warm days as Joachim kept his chickens well away from the main buildings. Instead of dirt, Joachim lined the grounds surrounding the inn with a mixture of cobbled stone and several strips of flowers or shrubbery.  
Sialen's boots padded along the stone as she made her way to where Kuoji had told her that her father and brother would be quartered along with a number of soldiers. It was to be the womens' quarters, but unlike what Helin and Solan believed, it had not been done out of personal insult, but practical considerations.  
There were less venues of entrance or exit, affording better security. There had been very little trouble on the road, but Kuoji and his advisers thought it best to not take any risks on loyalists trying to free the deposed king and his son. As befitting a man of his rank, Kuoji took the rooms generally reserved for the King, or the current highest-ranked man among Joachim's guests.  
After some careful consideration, Sialen had agreed to take the rooms that were generally held for a noble guest's wife. She was aware of the implications this might raise, but she had no desire to stay in the same quarters as her father and brother, and of course, staying at a different inn for the sake of propriety was an idea they both laughed at. She was not a prisoner, and besides, she did have a relationship with Kuoji.  
They had been discreet about it, but Sialen did not doubt that at least a few people suspected of the depth of their bond. As she understood it, among the Atyamainese, relationships fell under less scrutiny. What two adults chose to do should not be anyone else's concern, within reason. Neither of them had a troth or spouse. So them, what of it?  
That did not prevent Sialen from feeling self-conscious at times. Despite her best efforts to learn the Atyamainese language and customs, two decades of Coronan mores had taken their effect on her. psyche  
Her stride was even as she took the familiar path to the outlying building that had a neat row of rosebushes along the front. The guards admitted her with calm silence, head bows exchanged between all parties.  
The large front room smelled faintly of potpourri, and sunlight filtered in through the plain but clean white linen drapes. The wooden floor was well-polished with several hand-woven rugs of rose, purple, and green. Several wooden chairs and benches adorned the room, and a small stack of quilts sat in one corner of the room. The fireplace was cold at the moment.  
She remembered long mornings – and afternoons – and evenings – here with her mother and sister, and other women. Engaging in small talk, studying and discussing the Holy Book, working on their sewing, calligraphy, or music. She could manage well enough in small talk and politeness, but she had always yearned to go out on her own, and take a walk, and enjoy the fresh air and go by the river. Such excursions had been curbed in quantity by her parents and her mother's ladies, and on these rare occasions that she had finally been permitted a foray outside, Sialen had been forced to endure her companions.  
Oh, there certainly were plenty of memories to be had here. Not that she could hold it against Joachim. The innkeeper, though always respectful, had always seemed to her, rather genial and open-minded towards the women around him, at least in comparison to many Coronan men at Court. And now, she was free to wander wherever she pleased.  
Her quiet steps were easily hidden under the conversation that drifted in from the dining room. She moved to the doorway, keeping out of sight as she listened to her father make an attempt at freedom.  
Father and Solan had been fairly well-behaved over the last few weeks. The Atyamainese were swift and effective in administering their lessons, and initial fierce resistance eventually melted away to grudging cooperation. However, where his wife's cooperation with the Atyamainese had come from understanding and respect, Helin's was done only out of sheer necessity. He clung to his pride stubbornly, quietly nursing it for the time where the Heavenly Father would reward him for his trials.  
“This is YOUR house, Joachim!” Sialen heard her father hiss. “You would place your own King below these mongrel dogs! You let Lukas' pack roam around at will while I am kept chained up like a dog?”  
“With all due respect, you are no longer King. I am not a fool. I will not put my family or livelihood at risk.”  
“The Heavenly Father will punish those who betray him!”  
“Then I will meet my judgment in due time.” The innkeeper's voice was ever calm. “In the meantime, I will safeguard my family… as it commands in the Holy Book.”  
Sialen grinned to herself at that. The Atyamainese man who had been sitting guard on the other side of the door raised his eyebrow.  
“The Holy Book commands you to obey your King.”  
“And you are not King anymore,” Joachim replied in a tone that Sialen could almost swear was cheerful.  
“The Dark Sister sits upon my throne!”  
“I have met her, and she is a nice woman. I will admit, I was afraid at first, when I saw the army coming south, over the hills. I was certain we were dead! We'd gotten a few reports, but...” He took a breath. “But they stopped, just across the river and a group came towards us. It was Prince Kuoji and some of his men. He spoke Coronan very well, and offered peace to the mayor. He only asked that we stand aside. The city army is relatively small, many of our men had already been sent off or conscripted, as I am sure you know...”  
Joachim's voice did not waver from its calmness. Gold was not the only thing that had been extracted from the country as tribute to the King's pride. The Atyamainese army was indeed formidable, as she had seen with her own eyes, was it any wonder Thend – among other towns and cities – had capitulated so quickly after already having many of their able-bodied men conscripted into the Coronan army?  
“After the meeting, the Prince asked me very graciously if he and his companions could quarter here. He paid fairly, even though his army could have bled us dry. His men paid for everything they used and bought. His aunt was a very impressive woman. I met her but once, but I will never forget her. She was not evil, I can tell you that.”  
“The Atyamainese have blinded and contaminated you with their filth.”  
“I will bear no further discussion on this. My job is to make sure that your basic needs are met, not to debate with you.”  
Joachim strode through the doorway, blinking as he saw her.  
“Good afternoon, meser. I simply thought to visit my father and brother. The trip has been long.”  
He smiled at her graciously. “Of course, my lady. If you have a need for anything, you know who to ask!”  
Helin and his son had been given no better or worse fare than anyone else here. Chicken, baked potatoes and carrots, hot rolls, and fried apples made up their lunch, with water and small beer to wash it down. They looked no worse for wear, and it appeared they'd washed their faces and hands before eating, and had put on fresh shirts. The quality of their clothing was a step down from what they were used to, but still better than what many peasants wore, or even used as their best clothing.  
“What brings you here?” Helin asked. He used no honorifics, but Sialen ignored that insult by omission.  
“I simply thought to check on my family. I've never traveled so hard, or quickly. It has been new to me,” she started pleasantly. On the summer trips to Gold Lake, the trip was slower-going, with the lavish needs of the royal family and its retinue of noble friends and companions, and the servants and guards.  
There was no wheelhouse this time, and Sialen was glad for that. It made the journeys less boring, but the faster pace was more grueling, especially on one unused to such.  
Solan grunted at that.  
“I suppose that you know that just across the river is now part of Yngis?” Sialen asked. She was certain that Kuoji would have informed the pair.  
“What is your point?” Helin asked brusquely. She smiled and shrugged.  
“Just making small talk, I suppose. After all, isn't that what a woman is supposed to do?”  
“Silence is also a virtue for women,” he reminded her sharply. She laughed out loud at that. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Solan twitch as he fought the urge to rise from his seat. Several years ago, she had laughed at Solan for saying something stupid, and he had slapped her for it. Which was acceptable, according to the Holy Book. 'A disrespectful woman must be quickly corrected, lest she forms the belief that she may afford a man disdain'.  
“It seems the world would be a better place if men would take on womanly virtues. Such as modesty and chastity. But we're not here to talk of such things, are we?” She shook her head, studying the pair. Though Helin and Solan were far from identical, one could plainly see that they were related. They had clear blue eyes under thick golden brows, and wavy blond hair crested from their heads, showing no signs as yet of thinning for the older man. “Regardless of past disagreements, you are my family.”  
“So you say you want to make sure we have what we need and are comfortable?” Solan asked after swallowing a mouthful of chicken. “You want to be a good sister and see to our welfare?”  
“What do you want?” she asked bluntly, though maintaining her pleasant tone. “And need I remind you, questions you have asked before, the answers remain ever the same.”  
Solan gave out a scoff at that. “Then you're just as useless a bitch as ever,” he spat out. Helin shot him a warning glance – something that would have been unthinkable in the old days – before he glanced at his daughter.  
“Have you even asked it of Lukas?” Helin asked. “He seems quite taken with you.”  
Sialen blinked at that before collecting herself. “Prince Kuoji and I are good friends. Nothing more, nothing less. I will not disrespect him by asking him. After all, the Good Book warns against a woman using her… womanly wiles on a man. Are you suggesting that I go against the Heavenly Father?” she asked, placing her hand on her chest in mock chagrin.  
“These are not men. These are Atyamainese mongrels,” Solan put in. Sialen squared her shoulders. Ice princess she might have been known as, but she did have moments where her temper would flare in the heat of anger.  
“So you would ask your sister to let a mongrel mount her?” Quickly, she slid to the edge of the table, sliding out the dagger she kept under her shirt. Solan flinched back in surprise and fear. The only dishes the men had been given were cups and plates along with blunt spoons, to ensure they did not have any weapons.  
“You are a filthy, disgusting animal. Although that comparison is a disservice to animals since they're better-behaved than you!” She glared at him, the polished edge of the dagger glinting in the ambient sunlight. Novice she may be, but she had learned several basic moves and techniques, so she could wield a knife with a level of efficiency.  
“They let you carry a knife?” Helin asked, staring at the blade.  
“Self-defense is considered a valuable skill for a woman of Atyamai.”  
“But you're not Atyamainese,” Solan observed.  
“I bent the knee to the Tekuras. I am a Atyamainese citizen,” came Sialen's somewhat calmer response as she slowly drew the knife back to herself, but kept it out. She glared at Solan. “Have a mind that you have been stripped of your lofty position. You do not have royalty or pedigree to defend your actions. I can see the use in having someone's tongue revealed. Very creative idea of Mother's, wasn't it?”  
“The Heavenly Father tests us to prove our worth. Prove your mettle, son,” Helin said firmly. “Our time will come.”  
It was not the best reason for affording her a level of courtesy, but Sialen was willing to ignore the not-so-subtle reminder of virtue. The older man turned his attention back to her.  
“What do you expect of us in Atyamai? Should we take up their ways? Pray to their gods?” Helin asked as he saw her raised eyebrow.  
“The Atyamainese have no care who you pray to, as long as you follow their corporeal laws. In time, you may be allowed certain pursuits. Music, gardening, art, the like.” Even though Helin and Solan would have no personal servants, and be expected to keep their quarters clean and do certain chores, they would still have time for self-reflection and peaceful pursuits, unless given extra chores as punishment.  
“But they will not teach us their ways of war,” Solan interjected. “They intend to strip us of our manhood!”  
“Things will be easier when you understand, and take in, the Atyamainese concept of manhood.” Sialen recalled her discussions with others about the view of sexuality and the proper roles for each gender. To be sure, many Atyamainese men valued their physical skills, and readiness was a virtue inculcated from a young age, but character was made up of a wide variety of aspects.  
“I will never take up their depraved beliefs!” Solan stated.  
“You don't have to. As I said, you have but to follow their corporeal laws. I am only giving you advice which I believe would be beneficial to you. Nothing more, nothing less than cautionary words from a concerned sister and daughter.”  
“Your words have been noted,” Helin replied. He did not hide the sarcasm in his voice, and she chose to ignore it.  
“I can see that at this point there is no need for me to be further concerned with your welfare, so I shall be taking my leave.” She slid her dagger back into its hilt as the men watched her. She did not deign to curtsy or bow her head as she left the room. She noticed that the guard that had been sitting before was now standing at the doorway just out of the line of Helin and Solan's sight, his hand resting loosely on the hilt of his sword.  
“No worries,” she said, waving at him.


	12. XII

*Moonshadows*

*XII*

o0o

"Thank you, Kidoji," Kuoji stated as the manservant retreated after  
bringing him the meal, which he had decided to take alone. Some might  
note the similarity between his own name and that of his longtime  
servant, but it was simple coincidence. Kidoji had offered to change his  
name in service, but the Prince dissuaded him from it. It was common for  
a personal servant to take on a new name for a master in Atyamai, but  
Kuoji maintained several of the practices he'd grown up with in Corona.

He was grateful for this respite amidst the brisk travel. They'd stopped  
along cities and towns during their sojourn northeast, but generally  
limited their time. He spent much of his time meeting with the mayors or  
generals and their officials who oversaw the welfare and bureaucracy of  
these population centers. However, here he had decided to take a  
three-night rest.

After finishing his meal, he walked over to the window to look outside  
at the town. Across the wide road that led to the bridge, he watched as  
several men worked to raise a thick beam. Though prosperous, the city  
had remained relatively small due to its location, and the fact that the  
river that ran alongside it did not serve much use economically,  
starting in the mountains before meandering southeast to the ocean. Now  
that it was a border city, more people would settle and use this as a  
trade center for the kingdom that now bordered their fair town. Several  
generations could see this turn into a bustling city with a mixture of  
Coronan and Yngsian people, with some Atyamainese thrown in. Cities and  
civilizations rise and fell, for myriad reasons.

After finishing his meal, the prince decided to go for a walk. It was  
near dusk, and he took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. Though  
most of the days were relatively mild, it became chilly at night in  
these hilly regions, and the leaves had already started to turn. He  
pulled on a light black wool jacket, fastening the button just below the  
neck.

He lifted his chin as he stepped outside, glancing at the colors of the  
late afternoon sky. His path meandered along the inn grounds as he  
observed the activity, before heading in the direction of the river.

\The tall pines in the distance stood evergreen amidst the gold-tinted  
foliage, and he grinned to himself as he caught a now-familiar sight.  
Sialen was at a bend in the river, her ladies-in-waiting sitting about  
five meters up the bank, one reading a book, the other one knitting.  
Both women were garbed in typical Coronan clothing for Corona  
noblewomen, albeit he noticed that one of them had taken up the hem of  
her skirt for easier walking, exposing a pair of trim boots that were  
suitable for this weather and terrain.

He lifted his hand, staying them as the other woman started to get up.  
Carefully, he approached Sialen seeing her seated mere inches away from  
the water, holding her hands out. He could guess at what she was doing,  
and gazed up at the River Thend as it made its way southeast. The river  
could become deeper during the spring melts, but was usually only deep  
enough to accommodate canoes and lightweight barges.

Silently, he approached her, stopping about a half meter away. His  
magical senses reached out, sensing a slight aura of green and blue  
around Sialen's hands as she held them above the water.

Sensing other magics was an ability some mages had, in varying degrees.  
For many, it was seen as a glimmer of color. Fire came in smoky gray,  
and reds through golds. Earth ranged from brown, to ochre, to varying  
shades of green. The hues of Air manifested in pale blue and lavender,  
along with blue-gray and a touch of rose and yellow.

Around Sialen's hands, he caught an occasional glimmer of greens and  
blues. He saw the colors only at the edges of his vision, catching  
flashes of them when he stared past her to the water.

After several more moments, he closed the distance between them, gently  
sliding his hands to her hips. She lowered her arm and leaned back into  
him. He lowered his head to press his lips to her temple, his hands  
sliding across her stomach to keep her in his embrace â€“ not that she  
seemed to care about getting away. He smiled as he felt her hands come  
to rest on top of his own.

"My princess," he whispered. "What sort of magic were you working?" he  
asked with curiosity.

"Tracing the path of the water," she explained. It was something unique  
to those touched with Water magic. It was a way of getting the lay of  
the land, although its range only extended so far beyond the water.  
Still, it was helpful in mapping out rivers, lakes and coastlines, or  
finding a spring.

"And how does that work?" Kuoji asked with curiosity. Each way of magic  
had its own unique tricks that could not be duplicated in any other element.

She was quiet for a few moments, pondering her words. "I suppose the  
best way to describe it is like a fish swimming upstream. I feel the  
current against me and push on.. I still need lots of practice, though,"  
she added with a wry chuckle. "Teacher suggested that I try doing it  
without placing my fingers in the water, More challenging, but it would  
eventually give me more mastery."

Kuoji nodded. Generally, people who were only Touched with magic, or  
beginners, needed physical contact with their element to work their  
magic. The stronger or more skilled someone was, the less they needed ro  
rely on that closeness. Otherwise, that weakness could be used against a  
mage.

"Should I leave you be, then?" he asked in a light tone. She shook her head.

"I am done practicing tonight." She twisted around in his arms to face  
him and he pressed his lips to her forehead, enjoying the feel of her  
body against his own. "Although this talk of magic, what does it feel  
like for you, to bring forth a fire? Or to stretch a shadow?"

He looked down at her. "It's difficult to describe to someone not versed  
in that element. But when I bring forth a spark..." He lifted his  
finger, focusing on the warmth in his body, and guiding it to his hand.  
"I use the heat f my body and imagine it all going here..." Suddenly,  
orange and gold flickered from his fingertip before coalescing into a  
small but steady flame, like a candlelight.

"And for shadowâ€¦ it's about pushing away the light. That's the best I  
can explain it. Black magic is mysterious. Even masters can't quite  
explain it, like they can the magics based on physical elements." It led  
to some of the superstitions and fears of the art, something that the  
Way of the Light took to the extreme.

He waved his hand, and the flame disappeared. "But enough about magic,"  
he said lightly, leaning his head to kiss her brow, "and more about us."

"What about us?" She raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a faint smile.

"Well, I happen to find /us/ an absolutely fascinating subject, and one  
that bears further investigation."

Soft, pleased laughter met his ears. "And how do you propose we do this  
investigation? Further discussion?"

"I think when it comes to that, we should not limit ourselves to  
discussion." He kissed her forehead. His lips trailed down to her cheek.  
She obligingly tilted her face so he could kiss her other cheek. When he  
moved down to the side of her neck to kiss the pale skin just above the  
dark collar, he felt a delicate, shuddering intake of breath.

"My princess..." This time, his tone was more husky than flirtatious. He  
recalled what his aunt had said about touching upon the insensate. He  
had not broached the subject with her, nor did he want to. Yet it was  
inevitable that she would come to learn of it during her time in  
Atyamai. For a typical Coronan lady, touching upon the insensate would  
have been downright unthinkable, at least if the woman in question cared  
about her virtue and reputation in Coronan society.

"I've had other men call me that. But you're the only one I feel  
comfortable with referring to me as such."

He ran his finger along her jawline. "And I am no one else's prince but  
yours."

"What a lucky woman I am," she murmured, her eyes twinkling. "I have my  
own prince who is not only handsome and wealthy, but kind."

"Don't forget that I am also blessed when it comes to physical endowment."

"I already said you were handsomeâ€¦ Oh!" Her cheeks pinkened as she  
realized just what he meant. "My prince, that is most improper to say to  
a lady!" Despite her words, there was no reprimand in her tone.

"Admit it, you're curious," he teased gently.

"I admit nothing."

"Admissions can be made without words," came his retort.

"You really are too glib for your own good." She smiled at him as she  
pulled away, and he decided to let the subject drop. Much as he desired  
her, he respected her enough to not attempt to rush things.

"A man who relies entirely on his physical talents becomes boring soon  
enough. I sincerely hope that you always find my company worth pursuing."

"So do I."

o0o

Kuoji leaned back in his chair with a cup of tea. He looked over at his  
bed, imagining Sialen reclined across the sheets, eager for his  
attentions. What kind of bedmate would she be? Would she be loud and  
passionate, or speak of her desire in more subtle ways? He bit back a  
groan as he imagined what it might be like if she was on top of him,  
leading the rhythm and taking control in a way that was not encouraged  
amongst Coronan women.

/Touching upon the insensate/. Kuoji remembered well his own experience.  
The rite was meant to be a learning experience, to teach someone what  
they enjoyed, or not, and give them more confidence in the decisions  
they made regarding intimacy.

He finished his tea and read several letters and messages before  
changing into his nightclothes and retiring for the evening. The  
interactions he had had with Sialen tonight were far more than he could  
have ever hoped for, much less expected, back then.

o0o

It was his fourteenth birthday. Over a year had passed since he and his  
mother had entered the employ of the royal family. Service to the House  
of Sol was not without its trials â€“ the majority of it stemming from his  
all too obvious Atyamainese heritage. Nonetheless, he'd learned some  
valuable skills. He knew how to tend to horses, and had picked up a good  
foundation in carpentry, construction, and some horticulture. Thanks to  
Sialen, he'd been able to pursue a certain amount of scholarship so that  
while service kept his hands busy, exercise of his mind was not neglected.

He learned as much as he could, about anything, in anticipation of  
eventually leaving the Palace. His mother might have a stable future and  
position as a seamstress to the Queen, but her blonde hair and wide eyes  
offered her a certain level of protection that her son would never know  
in Corona.

Clad in his best clothing â€“ the nice shirt and tunic that he normally  
only wore on the Father's Days or other special days â€“ he made his way  
through the Palace hallways to his mother's quarters. As a personal  
servant to the Queen, Amyra's quarters were relatively close to those of  
the royal ones, and normally Lukas would have never been allowed within  
this wing.

However, he and his mother had proven themselves to be good servants,  
and it was his birthday, so he had received special permission to enter  
this wing just once, as long as he made his way directly to his mother's  
room and wandered nowhere else.

Mother occupied the space once held by Selestia's former chief of the  
royal ladies' wardrobe, and a good part of the chamber was dedicated to  
the task that she had been brought to the Palace for. Several dresses  
and snippets of fabric were draped along a long table that held various  
implements such as needles, scissors, thread, lace, and ribbons.  
Although Amyra's main duty was to the Queen, she also serviced the  
clothing of the Princesses, as well as doing the finer embroidery and  
the like on the King's formal clothing. There was a full-length mirror  
in one corner of the large chamber, and he paused as he stared at his  
reflection.

Normally he only caught sight of himself in the surface of water, such  
as a washing bowl or rainwater barrel, because there was no reason for  
someone like him to be in possession of a proper mirror, even a  
hand-held one. His clothing had been crafted with care by his mother,  
and if not for his Atyamainese blood, he could have easily passed for  
the son of a merchant or someone of modest success. The forest-green  
shirt matched the color of his eyes, and the dark gray wool of the tunic  
lent a quiet dignity that seemed to make him appear older.

He wondered how much of his father he had inherited. Did Mother see her  
long-dead lover in her son;'s face? Did she ever regret sharing her bed  
with the mysterious Atyamainese soldier?

"It's not fair that I can never rule when I am so much more intelligent  
than that dumb shit!" Lukas heard a familiar voice hiss from the room  
that adjoined the dressing chamber. He turned and approached the doorway  
that led to his mother's private quarter.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he saw Sialen spin around, clutching a  
book that had several loose pages sticking out of it. Her pale eyes  
widened as she saw him, and Amyra rose to her feet.

"What are you doing here?" Sialen asked quietly. Most other ladies would  
have said this with disdain, especially given the location, but the  
princess only regarded him with surprise.

"It is Lukas's birthday," Amyra explained quietly.

Sialen's eyebrows furrowed slightly before she turned back to Amyra.  
"Perhaps I should leave, then?"

"No, no. Please don't leave on my account, my lady," Lukas uttered  
hastily, not wishing to squander this rare opportunity. "What are you so  
angry about?"

"This." Sialen lifted the book. The cover indicated that it was about maths.

"I thought you liked maths," Lukas commented. "At least, numbers provide  
better company than your brother?" he ventured. /And surely I am better  
company than Solan/, he mused, biting that thought back before it could  
be uttered. A faint smile fluttered across her features at his remark.

"I do, but Solan doesn't." She opened the book to reveal the fact that  
the loose pages he'd seen had been torn from the binding.

"Ah, I see." He took several steps forward, his hand uplifted. She gave  
him the tome, their fingers brushing against one another. The arithmetic  
was of a higher level, for students than Sialen and even her brother. He  
noted her neat handwriting in the margins as she worked on the problems  
presented in the book.

"I don't think that your brother has advanced this far in maths?" Lukas  
inquired.

"I doubt he ever will," came the derisive reply.

"So, what happened?"

Sialen took a deep breath before letting out an angry huff, "I was in  
the garden, studying this book. Solan saw me, and said that the book was  
not fit for my eyes and that I should be focusing on studying womanly  
virtues."

"Eh," Lukas responded with a snort of his own. She grinned at that.

"So I responded that maths made sense if one took the time to understand."

He nodded. Maths might not be his favorite subject, but he had no  
problem understanding the foundations of it and how to apply it to  
various real-life problems.

"And I also told him that it was not my fault he was too stupid and lazy  
to try to understand maths. And history. And science."

At that, he was unable to hold back a laugh. Though it was not openly  
discussed, it was no secret that the Prince disdained his time in the  
classroom, very much preferring to be out hunting or riding. Or looking  
for inferiors to bully. And being not much older than Lukas, Solan had  
found something else to add to his pursuits â€“ girls. Not that /those/  
got treated much better than those he bullied.

"So Solan responded with the usual maturity and grace," Sialen finished  
dryly. "Fortunately, I was able to grab the book and run off before he  
could rip out any more pages."

Throughout this whole exchange, Amyra had been silent, watching them  
with an expression Lukas could not quite read.

"It really is not fair that you can not be the King," Lukas replied in  
all sincerity. "This may only be the opinion of a bastard, but I think  
the crown would suit you better."

She regarded him with a faint, sad smile before she suddenly changed tack.

"It's your birthday, and I have no present for you!" Sialen said with  
genuine regret.

"Surely you just, my lady. For what poor young man, let alone someone  
like me, gets a visit from a princess on his birthday? Especially from  
someone as gracious as you? I could ask for no more," he commented.  
Sialen blushed faintly and looked past his shoulder, offering him a  
slight curtsey.

He bowed to her as if he were a nobleman. "Would the Princess do me the  
honor of sharing my birthday sup?" he asked gently.

"I could think of no better company."

Mother had made blueberry pastries; love for that particular fruit was  
something that Kuoji and Sialen had in common. She'd also obtained some  
dandelion wine, and poured them both a cup.

It was the first time since Golden Lake that he had been able to have  
some quiet time with the Princess. Given their stations, and heritages,  
any opportunity to interact with her on a personal basis was severely  
limited, and Kuoji was determined to not squander this precious time. He  
watched as she daintily ate the flaky pastry, cutting it into several  
pieces before lifting a piece to her mouth.

Doing his best to be discreet, he studied her. The pale, silvery-gold  
color of her hair, plaited neatly into a braid. The soft pinkness of her  
lips as she licked them. The way she extended her pinky and ring finger  
as she held the pastry delicately. Sialen might rebel at much of what  
she was taught, but she did not eschew grace for defiance.

As if she sensed how special this occasion was for him, Mother retreated  
to the corner, pulling out some knitting. Inevitably, the time with  
Sialen had to come to an end. She finished off her wine after she had  
had a second pastry.

"Thank you, Amyra. These pastries were wonderful."

"It was my pleasure, my lady." Lukas did not miss the fondness that his  
mother had for this young woman whose destiny had become entwined with  
theirs the say Lukas had pulled her out of the river.

Sialen turned to Lukas. "It was nice toâ€¦ sit with you. I wish more boys  
were like you."

"You flatter me, my lady," Lukas replied. Despite his attempt to remain  
collected, Lukas felt a bit of color rise in his cheeks, and hoped she  
wouldn't notice.

She raised her eyebrow. "I flatter no one."

He grinned at that. "Thank you for making sure that this is a birthday I  
will never forget."

She smiled faintly at that before turning to leave after grabbing her  
book from the mantel where Kuoji had deposited it after issuing his  
invitation. She was silent for several moments and he wondered what she  
had left to say.

Wordlessly, she lifted her hand in the widely-recognized gesture of a  
lady offering her hand for a kiss. The blood rushed to â€“ or from â€“ his  
head, he could not be quite sure. He looked down at the pale,  
finely-shaped hand, feeling his own lift to gently press his fingers to  
her palm.

Someone like him would never be asked to kiss the hand of a lesser  
noblewoman, let alone a princess. /My princess/, he mused as he lowered  
his head to brush his lips against her knuckles. The faint scent of  
freesia met his senses, and his eyes moved from the hand to the  
lace-covered wrist, and further along to the pink and purple silk of her  
sleeve. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand and lips from her, meeting her eyes.

"Until then, Lukas." And with these words, she was gone, leaving the  
perfume of lilac lingering in the air.

He turned to see his mother regarding him with a wistful expression.

"What is the matter, Mother?" he asked.

"Your future is not here in Corona."

Although he knew that â€“ and had known for a long time â€“ her words still  
weighed heavily upon him. He could understand why Mother warned him  
against this. Realistically, he knew he had no chance with Sialen. Her  
father would marry her off to a noble, or send her to an abbey.

"Knowing that does not change how I feel," he stated rebelliously. "I  
hate this!"

She said nothing as she cleared the dishes away from the small table and  
placed them in the basket. He inhaled slowly.

"I also hate not knowing my father's real name," he stated in a much  
quieter but no less firm tone. He saw her stiffen, but he squared his  
shoulders. For his whole life, everyone else believed that he was a  
product of rape. Yet Mother confided to him, with the promise to never  
discuss it with anyone else, that he was a product of love, and that the  
Atyamainese man who had come to her bed treated her with respect and  
affection.

Her eyes took on a far-off cast the few times she spoke of the  
mysterious sire that had given Lukas a heritage he could not escape.  
When people called him whoreson, or mongrel, or slanty-eye, it took all  
of his strength to bite back the bile that burned in the back of his  
throat. Yet it would have been all the worse for Mother and himself if  
the truth were known.

"I also hate not knowing anything about my family."

"I have told you, your father had powerful enemies. And so does his  
family. I lost him to them, and I do not wish to lose you. In due time,  
perhaps, but you are too young."

"I'm not as young as I once was." His treatment at the hands of the  
Court and their inferiors left him jaded but frustrated. He kept himself  
on his best behavior, working diligently at his chores and proving  
himself to be a better servant than many of his peers. He attended  
church services and studied the Holy Book. When he was younger, he had  
believed that if he worked hard enough, the Heavenly Father would bless  
him and allow his inner goodness to shine through for others to see.

Very few people were willing to go beyond a neutral stance towards the  
young half-Atyamainese in their midst. Despite his efforts at good  
behavior, the boy maintained a quiet pride that carried itself in his  
bearing if not his downcast gaze. That unshakeable dignity rankled some,  
even though these people could not explain why they did not find his  
good manners enough to warrant a fair opinion of him.

Yes, his future was not hereâ€¦ but that did not stop him from wanting to  
spend it with Sialen.

"In a few years, I will have to decide where to go." There was Viruch or  
Dakul to the south, but he would be as much an alien there as he would  
in Corona. He could go east to where the Atyamainese Empire had its  
foothold on the continent. Or he could venture beyond Viruch through the  
Great Stretch, hundreds of kilometers of sand stretching a wide belt  
across the continent, to a kingdom where people were said to have skin  
as black as night.

Or he could leave the continent and try to find his destiny in the  
Ninelands, Biyes, Nezerpdia, Dheim, or the lands beyond. Beyond the  
horizon stretched an almost infinite amount of possibilitiesâ€¦ yet Lukas  
longed for something closer to home.

"Shouldn't I have the choice to confront my father's enemies? Doesn't  
the Holy Book command a son to defend his father?

"These people do not follow the Way of the Light," Mother said softly.

"Still, he was my father!" He took a deep breath. "If what others  
believed was the truth, I would be glad to let him rot in hell. Doesn't  
a man who was as good as you say, deserve better?"

He could tell by the slight but sharp intake of breath that his words  
had found their target.

"I will tell you everything. But not just yet." Her tone was resolute,  
yet he heard a faint plea in her words.

"Promise me, Mother."

She nodded. "When you are ready to leave Corona. Then you can ask me  
anything, and I promise to tell you whatever I know."

o0o

That time came sooner than either of them expected. And there were even  
more truths than the Empress had known, or expected.

She looked down at the sleeve of the robe, pulling a green thread  
through rose-colored satin as she embroidered the leaves of a flower.  
Even though she no longer had to sew for a living, the woman once known  
as Amyra had never lost her love for the craft, and now did it at her  
leisure. She was known for her exquisite garments, countless stitches  
forming images of flowers, animals, landscapes, and ornate designs.

To receive a robe from the Empress was considered a high honor, and her  
keen eye for color and cut caused her opinion in fashion to be  
much-sought after. For Sialen, she had decided on a deep rose color,  
remembering the princess's fondness for deep, rich hues instead of the  
paler ones that her mother preferred to see her daughters in.

Hauane had taken the rebellious and lonely princess to her heart. Sialen  
treated her and her son with respect, and in turn, the former servant  
fixed her loyalty upon the girl her son had pulled out of the river. As  
Hauane had proven her skill in needle and thread, and been promoted to  
the head of the wardrobe, she saw the princess more. She listened with a  
sympathetic ear as she measured Sialen for clothing and fitted her. In  
time, Sialen started visiting her, ostensibly for sewing lessons, and  
the two bonded further. It was to her that Sialen came to vent about  
wrongs done to her, and her frustrations at her family. Unlike Selestia,  
Hauane had been much more sympathetic, and never quoted the Holy Book  
when she had been consoling the princess.

The flowers along the collar and at the corners of the front of the  
robes were indigo, violet, and scarlet, forming an elegant pattern.  
Sialen was certain to like this better than anything her mother had  
chosen for her. This robe would come with a sheath of deep indigo to  
wear underneath, and buttons of green silk rope to hold the outer  
garment closed.

Her eyes moved around the room, where several other ladies as well as  
servants worked on various projects. One sat near the hearth with her  
distaff, spinning wool. Another was nursing her very young baby, who  
would be set back in her padded basket when the mother resumed her  
sewing. Music wafted into the room through the walls from another  
princess's pipilut, the skillfully-plucked strings creating a pleasant  
backdrop to the afternoon.

Hauane finished one side of the collar, holding up the robe to ensure  
that the threading hung evenly. Satisfied, she set the robe back down  
and made several marks on the other side of the collar to ensure the  
designs mirrored one another.

She heard a pointed clearing of the throat and looked up to see her  
daughter staring at her impatiently.

"Have you completed your assignment?"

"Yes, Mother," Aildane replied, and Hauane could almost feel her  
daughter trying to bite back a huffy tone. The green-eyed girl had  
always found these sewing circles to be boring, and made no secret of  
it. She had been given the choice of working on sewing, or completing  
one of her weekly assignments. To the energetic princess, practicing her  
penmanship was only the tiniest fraction better than working with needle  
and thread.

"I trust I will not need to call you back to make any corrections."

"/Mother/..." This time, the princess made no attempt to hold back her  
attitude.

Imonje often remarked that his youngest child's thoughts came not from  
her mind, but her voice. Aildane was free with her emotions, to the  
point of being rude at times. Hauane knew that her daughter would very  
much prefer to be outside, riding her horse or practicing her archery,  
or even simply taking a walk. However, as a princess, and a member of  
the illustrious Tekura Clan, there were certain lessons that Aildane had  
to take to heart, to balance out her headstrong personality.

The other ladies in the room remained tactfully silent, and notes from  
the pipilut filtered into the absence of words.

"You may go-" As the princess sprung from her seat, Hauane pulled her  
back with her next words, "after you put away your writing supplies."

"Much rather toss them out," came Aildane's mutter under her breath.

"And you would rue that the next time you need them," Hauane retorted  
calmly. Aildane chose to not draw out the argument any further, and  
folded up her portable writing desk before hastily retreating from the room.

The Empress returned to her sewing.

o0o

When I was writing this chapter, I caught a bit of the Rapunzel movie/show on  
television as I was flipping through stuff to watch. And Rapunzel's  
kingdom is called Corona. Well, crap. I guess I can't use that name  
anymore. Well, I could, but people would think that I had copied it from  
Disney, even though I started this story long before I learned that tidbit.

I'd been wanting to change the name for when I turn this story into a  
novel, as Corona came to seem a bit too obvious to me in terms of  
associations with the sun and light. To avoid confusion, I will just  
continue using that name in the time being.

Thank you to all my dear fans and readers for their support! Your  
feedback is always appreciated!


	13. XIII

Moonshadows

XIII

o0o

Selestia's slippered feet quietly trod the marbled floor as she approached the cell in which Marc Fiori had been sentenced to spend the rest of his life. The cells in the Father's House were meant for prisoners who were to serve an example to the public. However, after the Atyamainese takeover, the cells had been emptied, every one of the nearly two dozen prisoners released. Most had been women.  
The cells had been designed for lifetime occupancy. Once the prisoner went into the chamber, the door was closed and then bricked over, with several openings to pass through food and other items. Deaf people were used for the task of delivering food among other menial tasks related to the upkeep of such prisoners at this location or elsewhere, to effectively cut such unfortunates off from news of the outside world or to gain a sympathetic ear to their pleas.  
Not that it would matter, as the former Earthfather could no longer speak. Selestia was a somber figure as she glided down the hall in a dark gray shift under a fine black wool overdress.  
This would be the last time that Marc Fiori ever heard her voice. He'd just been interred here three days hence, once modifications had been made to the Father’s House to suit the Tekura. She looked up at the high windows that lined the walls of the wing. In being sentenced to these chambers, prisoners were lucky in one aspect – they need not worry about sunlight or fresh air. Since darkness was so fearsome to the Way of the Light, it was seen as counter-intuitive to lock away a prisoner for life within the darkness of an underground dungeon. Each cell also came with several narrow windows, through which a grown man could barely squeeze his hand.  
Selestia's view of Marc's quarters increased as she approached the wall, her eyes nearly level with one of the openings. Like the people he'd condemned to the Father's House, Marc's room was two meters by three meters, and contained only the barest essentials. However, where most prisoners received a copy of the Holy Book to keep them company in their solitude, Marc had been afforded nothing that had to do with religion. After all, it was his religion that he freely used as an excuse to commit the crime that placed him in here.  
It was not the only crime he had ever committed, though. But it was the only one that had been publicly acknowledged.  
Selestia's lips were set in a grim line as she stared into the cell, where she saw gray robes and white fuzz. The old man was kneeling in front of the windows, his head bowed in prayer. She watched him silently for several moments before clearing her throat.  
With stiff dignity, Marc slowly turned as he rose to his feet. His eyes were half-lidded with disdain, but he was careful to school the rest of his body language. The awkwardness with which he moved could have as easily been attributed to his arthritis as it was to the amputation he'd undergone a couple of weeks ago.  
A woman was commanded to keep her maidenhead for the man she would marry. However, thanks to the way that this rule was worded, along with other verses on martial duties, there were men along the clergy who abused their power over the fairer sex. The mighty Earthfather had been no exception.  
This was revealed to Azami when the Governor of the Coronan Province had inquired Selestia about her religion and upbringing. However, out of shame, Selestia, like so many other girls, had remained silent about such matters after it had happened, and asked for the same discretion now. Even though Marc would never be able to experience the joys of female flesh for as long as he lived, he'd still been castrated.  
And Selestia shared this information with certain peers, so now there was barely a woman who did not know Marc Fiori's ultimate fate. After so many years, the Earthfather was held to account for his wrongs.  
“Greetings, Meser Fiori,” Selestia stated, using the term that a noble often used while addressing an inferior who was not a servant. “I trust your accommodations are comfortable,” she continued, her voice that of an hostess inquiring after a guest's welfare.  
He approached the sealed door, staring at her through the slit. Like so many others in their family, he had vivid blue eyes, although these were devoid of warmth.  
“I am soon to leave the Palace. I don't know if I will ever come back to the Capitol, but I can trust that it is in good hands, at least.” Her conversations and time with Azami Tekura had shown her that a woman could effectively wield power and respect, something that the Holy Book said was impossible.  
She stared at him for several moments, giving him opportunity to fetch his writing implements, but his scowl only deepened.  
“For my whole life, I tried to be a good girl, and woman. I obeyed my father, father-in-law, husband, son, and you. I tried to believe that the Heavenly Father was a just arbitrator, and that he would protect women. After all, it is the man's duty to guard and protect women, and the Earthfather was an abject failure in that task.” Her hands were folded against her stomach, and her simple hairstyle led the lady a severe dignity.  
“And so often, you've told us all how depraved the Atyamainese were. All the lurid things they were said to do or believe in. How curious that one such as you should accuse them of perversions?”  
She took a deep breath. “I hope you use this opportunity to become a better person. You are an old man, and there is not much time left. I suggest you make the most of it. Peace upon you, Meser Fiori.” She regarded him with a slight curtsey.

o0o

The approach to Golden Lake was a somber experience for Sialen. The home that her family had vacationed in every summer now belonged to Kuoji's cousin, who was now the governor of the new Yngsian province.  
The village south of Golden Lake was almost exactly as she remembered, only a season later. As their convoy made it along the road, Sialen saw several groups farming and harvesting, bringing down golden ears of corn or sheaves of wheat, and one orchard offered them a good deal on an early harvest of ripe, red apples.  
Upon Kuoji's instruction, the apples were combined with flour, sugar, and several other ingredients to create a treat familiar to Coronan and Yngsian alike – apple pie. It could be baked in a pan, shaped in a loaf, or formed into smaller pastries that resembled dumplings, if one had to travel and wanted an easier time eating the baked apples. It had been such a calming and pleasing night, sharing the warmth of the bonfire with Kuoji as they enjoyed the treats with coffee.  
Now she looked up at the sun-bleached bricks that made up the facade of the stately manor that had served as the summer home of the House of Sol.  
Soldiers were lined up long the courtyard, bearing the dark gray and pale green stag of House Silorn, the distaff side of Kuoji's family. The Empress had come from this family, who had been one of the three families to rule Yngis for over four centuries. When Corona had invaded Yngis, several members had been killed, and others forced into hiding. Those survivors rallied their strength with the Tekuras, honoring the pact that had caused Corona to lash out at them in the first place.  
Now, the once-impoverished House had its fortunes restored, and more. Amyra's cousin had been given control of the new province, establishing a cadet branch of the noble family and expanding its power for the good of its own members, as well as those of the Tekuras.  
The host's position was taken up by one of such bearing that Sialen immediately identified Kuoji's cousin. Lined up at his right were children of varying ages, and to his right was a middle-aged man she recognized as the majordomo that had served this estate for as long as she could remember. His eyes met hers, and he lowered his eyes in a respectful cast. She returned her attention to the new lord of this manse.  
Like Kuoji's mother, Obern Silorn was fair of hair and green-eyed, and was garbed as befitting a lord, although the style was not quite the same as Corona. Vibrant deep red and emerald green was complemented by fine dark wool and leather, with a couple of gold rings on one hand and a golden torc holding up his cloak.  
Normally, ladies would have come to a host's courtyard in a carriage, as the occasion called for. However, she was on her horse, clad in a clean riding habit, her hair freshly combed and braided by her maidservants. She kept her eyes ahead, but took note of her surroundings, maintaining her position within the group. The Prince came to a stop, and so did the rest. He was quick to dismount, and several of his men came forward to lead the horses away.  
She slid down her horse, and stood a step behind Kuoji. Lord Silorn, stared down at them, arms crossed. He said nothing, and Kuoji returned the silence. Sialen swallowed thickly, her eyes quickly moving around to take note of any potential hostility. She looked back at her host. His arms were still crossed, his face set in a somber cast. The silence stretched for an interminable period of time. Was it seconds or minutes? Someone coughed. A chicken clucked.  
A grin broke across the blond man's scowl, and Kuoji laughed.  
“...What?” Sialen whispered.   
“I win,” he whispered back.  
“Only because I was so entranced by the sight before me. It's refreshing to look upon something so radiant.” Lord Silorn directed his grin to her.  
Oh. No wonder Kuoji had remarked on Lord Silorn's popularity with women. As he approached Kuoji, Sialen saw that he was taller than Kuoji, and more thickly-built, as if he were made for rugged mountain living. Thick sideburns framed a face made more handsome with mirth.  
“This must be the Lady Starsmore that my cousin has written me about. I have heard of your beauty, but its word does you no justice.” His voice was thick and deep, the Yngsian accent giving it a rumble that she could almost swear she felt in her stomach.  
“Your deduction would be correct, Lord Silorn. It is a pleasure to meet the Prince's illustrious relation.”  
“Illustrious? Did he really use that word, or did he use something much less… lordly?” Although the Yngsian accent made a few words sound different, Sialen was able to understand him well enough.  
“In the name of courtesy, I must refrain from commenting further on the subject,” came her prim reply. The tall blonde threw his head back in laughter before looking over at his cousin. “I'd heard of your lady being referred to as an ice-princess. It is well-deserved, and I mean that in the most flattering way!”  
Lord Silorn turned back to Sialen, his eyes twinkling merrily. “Welcome to Golden Lake. I have assigned the royal suites to the Prince and yourself, I trust you will find these accommodations pleasing?” he asked as he gestured for them to follow him. “The banquet will be ready very soon.”  
“The royal suites? Aren't these your rooms?” Sialen asked in mild surprise as they made their way up the wide stone steps to the main hall.  
“They do not suit my tastes, so I selected ones more to my liking. Besides, I can offer no less to my cousin.”  
“Thank you, dear cousin. Nepotism does have its place,” Kuoji replied in a dry but good-natured tone.  
It appeared that Lord Silorn had wasted no time in marking the place as his own. Though the sun was a visible motif through the manse in the form of stone tiles and blue and gold mosaics, the banners that hung from the walls dictated the ownership of the lakeside manor. Servants bustled about, giving them a berth as they made their way to the banquet hall that opened out onto a glorious view of the lake, surrounded by rich emerald and the tawny hues of autumn leaves.  
The tall shutters had been opened, allowing a crisp breeze to waft through the room.  
“You two will sit with me. Do you need time to refresh?” Lord Silorn asked.  
“I could use with some water and a bit of soap,” Sialen said.  
“I need to refresh as well,” Kuoji commented. He turned to her. “Shall we?”  
The royal suites were nearly as she remembered. She'd spent some time in the Queen's rooms as a child when sewing with her mother and sister or taking lessons. Much of the colors were feminine, in contrast to the bold colors of the King's rooms. She wrinkled her nose as her maidservants filed in behind her, chattering quietly to themselves.  
She washed her hands and face with the warm water and towels provided, and quickly pulled off the habit before quickly dressing in clothing more fit for a banquet.  
Refreshed and relieved, they returned to the hall just as the food was starting to arrive. Many of the choices were familiar to Sialen and Kuoji, along with a couple of dishes unique to Yngis or Atyamai. Sialen became more accustomed to the Yngsian accent, and more than once found herself the recipient of Lord Silorn's attention. He seemed unmindful of his cousin's claim to her, and it was not hard to recall Kuoji's warnings, at least until she stared into Obern's eyes.  
She looked around the table, where Eman was sitting next to Obern's oldest child, a tall boy of fourteen years old whose paternity could not be denied despite his bastardy. At the boy's other side were most of the rest of Obern's progeny, ranging from twelve to a toddler. The toddler was in the care of its nursemaid, leaving the others to sit with their father.  
Having buried a wife at a young age, Lord Silorn had never married again, but taken several mistresses through the years. He had legitimized each child after they'd passed infancy, but in the eyes of the Way of the Light, they remained bastards. But then, Yngsians did not worship the Holy Father.  
She did not doubt that Helin was scandalized by the fact that he had to sit at one of the lower tables, surrounded by Atyamainese guards, while bastard children sat at the high table. However, the former ruler had by now learned to hold his tongue – for the most part. His eyes were firmly fixed on his food, and he did nothing to call attention to himself.  
Kuoji and Obern talked about recent matters, discussing their experiences in Corona and Yngis.  
“And now, here I sit, when the man responsible for the harm done to my family is down there,” Lord Silorn stated firmly. Several eyes moved to Helin's table, fixing upon the lanky form of Gerard Mahtin, one of Helin's generals and one of those who had served in the invasion of Yngis two decades earlier. He'd been recalled to Golden Lake half a year earlier to lead soldiers against the Atyamai invasion. However, this time, his encounter with the Yngsians ended in defeat.  
The former general had only been kept alive by the grace of the Prince, who had advised his cousin to stay his vengeance. Well-earned as it was, Kuoji declared that the former lord should be granted at least a few more months of his life.  
The once-proud man stared up at Lord Silorn with a resentful gaze, but he ate silently. He was clad in plain clothing, and it looked like he'd been given a slightly shabby – but fresh – set of clothing for this occasion. Three men who had wielded considerable power in the days of the former kingdom now sat before Atyamainese and Yngsian alike, stripped of all rank and brought to a level of humility they had never imagined for themselves.  
And the general who had brought such woe to Yngis now faced justice for the crimes he'd committed. His sadism shone with the thin veneer of his faith, his harsh punishments meted out in the name of the Heavenly Father. Ladies of such delicacy, as the noblewomen and princesses, were supposed to be shielded from such news, but whispers of the servants made their way to her ears, and over the years she'd heard about General Mahtin. Hearing about them was one reason Sialen had struggled with the Way of the Light. Surely such atrocities could never be considered “good”.  
On occasion, she saw her father and Gerard speaking, heads bowed close together as they ate their squash and pork. Lord Silorn had been lavish in his offerings for his guests and court. Platters of pork, venison, and pheasant were passed around, glazed or marinated in various sauces made from local herbs and spices. Small pies stuffed with vegetables and bits of pork or mutton were served alongside roasted potatoes smothered in gravy, and large squashes had been cut in half and had butter melted into them while being baked, to create a summer and autumnal favorite in Yngis and northern Corona.  
Stir-fried vegetables – an Atyamainese specialty – were served alongside a popular local dish of lentil and onion soup that had been enhanced with imported spices and produce. Pastries containing fruits, nuts, or cream graced the tables, alongside bowls of roasted nuts and candied fruits.  
She'd been here in this dining hall many times, but this was the first time she had felt truly at ease in this room.

o0o

Sialen sat with several other women under a canopy, sharing spiced apple cider mixed with wine, and candied and salted nuts. In front of them, Kuoji, Eman, Lord Silorn, and several others were taking turns aiming their arrows at several targets set up a distance away.  
Lord Silorn was also offering a small purse of silver coins for the winner of the archery competition. Anyone in the household was eligible, and the purse would be a nice bonus for any servant. Obern's eldest son, Dennis, and one of his nephews would also be participating, making for a pack of little over a dozen.  
It was far from the first time Sialen had sat through a demonstration of mens' prized virility. Archery, sword-fighting, wrestling were all idea past times for the average Coronan male. Strength was a prized trait for a male, and uniquely ordained to him according to the Heavenly Father. It was not the only trait that the Father valued in his sons, but it certainly played an impressive part in the life of Coronan youth who had to prove himself to his elders, his peers, and to prospective brides.  
Sialen did not doubt that male ego played a large part in this demonstration, but there was also good sportsmanship, and honing ones skills. The sky was partially overcast, and there was a crisp breeze, carrying with it the occasional whiff of leaf fires and freshly-cut hay.  
A couple of the contestants had overestimated their skills, and stepped out, to good-natured laughter, as the remaining players continued to fire arrows at the various targets.  
Kuoji was one of the better archers, but he placed third, and gracefully bowed out to leave the archery to Eman and Dennis. The two remaining contestants were impressive sights in their own right.  
Prince Eman was dressed comfortably in a tunic and leggings of orange and burnt red, a brown cloak swept over his shoulder was held in place by a gold pin in the shape of the peacock that graced the crest of the House of Eiviz. His bow was a tall one of Viruchid rosewood varnished to a glossy dark brown that seemed to bring out the rich earth color of Eman's own skin and hair.  
Dennis Silorn was clad in green and brown with a bit of red and gold threading at the ends of his sleeves, his tousled blonde hair brushed out of his eyes on occasion by the back of his hand. His bow was made of the pale northern yew that Coronans and Yngsians alike recognized as one of the best materials for the bowyer craft.  
There was one amongst Sialen's companions who seemed particularly concerned about the results, and she smiled faintly to herself as she saw Fiamela's eyes fixed upon the Viruchid prince as he pulled his arm back, his dark eyes focused on the target.  
Though the thirteen-year-old girl had tried to be discreet about her infatuation with Eman, Sialen did not miss the way that Obern's daughter sought to position herself closer to Eman at meal times, or trying to find a seat that would permit her the best view of the object of her affections. Of course, such seating also allowed the young prince to give Fiamela notice – if he ever glanced in her direction, that was. The young maiden had donned a fine woolen dress of deep green that brought out the color of her eyes, and the highlights of her dark blonde hair, which Sialen noted had been braided with green ribbons, exposing the expanse of her long but graceful neck.  
Sialen remembered the few fleeting crushes she had. Despite her reputation of having a heart of ice, she was still a creature of flesh and blood, and was not blind to any sort of thing that might please the eye, including a man's handsome features.  
Good thing Kuoji was just as intelligent and kind as he was handsome, Sialen mused. She glanced back at Fiamela. Her face was long, and could not be called 'pretty', but her neck, and other features, were fair compensation. Even though like the rest of Obern's children, she was a bastard, her prospects for marriage were just as good as any other noble-born child of the Yngsian nobility.  
It was a curious distinction from Coronan mores. Among the Yngsians, a child was a child, regardless of which side of the bed they had been sired on. A step-parent could choose to not leave anything for their spouse's bastards from their own personal wealth, but each parent was expected to leave a fair share of their estate to all of their progeny, and not only that, but publicly acknowledge that child as their own. It was clear that Obern Silorn took his responsibility as a parent seriously.  
If Eman had not already committed himself to a Tekura bride, then an alliance between House Silorn and House Eiviz could be considered, if Eman reciprocated the feelings of his secret admirer. But then, such an alliance was still possible, albeit through different channels.  
“Yes!” Fiamela hissed as the final tally was announced, with Eman as the winner by a slim margin. Denis took his loss gracefully, giving the prince a solemn handshake.

o0o

Eman regarded Fiamela with a friendly, casual glance as he sat down for the sup. The girl had tried to be subtle about her infatuation with him, but he'd grown up among several sisters and female cousins, and the Viruchid style of life did not segregate boys and girls in the family or school sphere like Corona or Yngis did.  
After that polite acknowledgment, he kept his eyes averted from her side of the table as he ate his meal. He was not a cruel man, but he had no desire to give encouragement to her adolescent desire. Given what he'd seen other girls go through, she would be over him quickly enough, he was certain.  
Besides, he preferred older women. Much he had heard of 'fresh blooms' and 'budding maidens', but Eman had always thought that flowers looked best in their full bloom, their beauty on lavish display. If there were women in the Celestial City like Azami Tekura, he was certain he would find someone to suit him.  
He was prepared for his role. A couple of decades ago, Atyamai and Viruch had entered a secret alliance, and as was true in many alliances between great houses, marriage was part of it. He and several of his relatives had been placed under the tutelage of an Atyamainese teacher, so that they could speak Atyamainese almost as well as their native Viruchid. He would choose a bride from among the Tekura women to bring back to the Gray Reaches, where he would govern in several years. Some children protested having their lives planned out, but duty to family and country was drilled into the members of House Eiviz from a young age.  
Besides, if serving one's duty meant becoming a governor, and having a lovely bride, well then, he would embrace his patriotic obligation.

o0o

It was a rainy day, so Sialen and the other ladies of the household were gathered in the solar, where a cheerful fire illuminated the chamber. Fiamela and her aunt were knitting scarves. Several ladies-in-waiting had a quilt between them, and a servant spun wool in the corner. Lord Silorn's two younger daughters were under the care of the grandmother of the youngest girl. The older woman sat near the fire as she watched the older girl study and practice her letter while holding the toddler in her lap. A servant had brought in hot cider, and Sialen absorbed the warmth from the mug into her fingers,  
Sialen had chosen a seat next to the window, ignoring the slight chill as she wrapped the over-robe more tightly around herself. She listened to the other women converse, and answered questions about Coronan life. The scene before her was not much different than what one might have found in Selestia's parlor, but she found this conversation much more lively. The Yngsian women gasped over some of the things she told them, and she queried them about their own mores, learning from their philosophies.  
Now, a much lighter subject was being broached upon. Hrotrud, the old woman Sialen had come to admire for her blunt and efficient manner as matron of the women's quarters, had been telling a couple of Yngsian fairy tales. Her granddaughter was now dozing on the divan near the fire, and the matron came to an end of her current tale, which had been about a lady cursed to sleep for a century after pricking her finger on a needle.  
“What did you think of these stories, Lady Sialen?” Hrotrud asked. Sialen slid out of her reverie and stared at the woman with the salt-and-pepper hair.  
“I would have enjoyed having you as part of my mother's household when I was little.”  
Hrotrud beamed before her expression took one of mild shrewdness. “I suppose you are familiar with the story of Rizilda?”  
“I certainly do, and I never cared for it.”  
“I don't imagine you do.”  
“But why? It's a wonderful story!” Fiamela exclaimed softly. Sialen blinked.  
Hrotrud pressed her lips together for a couple of moments before breaking out into a grin.  
“The Coronan version is nowhere near as good as ours,” the old woman cheerfully stated. “Shall I tell it for the benefit of our friend?”  
There were pleasant murmurs of agreement from most of the others. Given the quality of Hrotrud's storytelling, Sialen did not have to guess why the proposal was met with such enthusiasm.  
The two versions of the story started out almost the same. Rizilda was the daughter of a farmer. She was admired for her beauty, obedience, and patience. A young nobleman who had come across the farm by accident while he was hunting was so taken by this paragon of feminine virtue that he asked for her hand   
Her father bade her to obey her husband as she had once obeyed her father – as was the way in the Way of the Light – and Rizilda took up the life of a noblewoman. However, she did not let her new-found status get to her head, and ran the household with great efficiency. She was admired by her servants and new peers alike, and her husband was praised for being the master of a wife of rare quality. In due time, she became pregnant.  
She gave birth to a daughter, and to test her obedience and patience, her husband ordered the daughter to be taken away and killed.  
Here, the two versions diverged. In the Coronan version, Rizilda accepted her husband's order, and watched meekly as her daughter was taken from her arms and into the night.  
Hrotrud met her eyes as she continued with the story. Rizilda promised her husband that he would have her obedience, but to show mercy to her and allow her one more day with the child. He was determined to test her obedience, and denied her request.  
However, Rizilda had allies. She had won the loyalty of courtiers and servants, and the man who was to take away her daughter told her that her husband was testing her obedience, and that her daughter would come to no harm. He, among others, had come to admire her so greatly that he could not bear the thought of causing her any grief, or any complicity in whatever grief others would try to cause her.  
With this knowledge, Rizilda handed the babe over, continuing her duties as wife and lady. In time, she became pregnant again, and had a son. The servants were happy to report to her that the lord planned another test, for they loved their lady so much thought the lord terribly cruel for what he had already done, and what he intended to do.  
As before, Rizilda asked for a day with her son. Again, she was denied, and again, she obeyed him. Several more years passed, before the lord decided to press his bride to one more test. He told her that she no longer pleased him, and banished her from the household.  
Unbeknownst to the lord, she knew where her children were hidden, and as he bade, so she left. She disguised herself as a nun, and went to the household where her children were being raised by an adoptive set of parents. She revealed herself to them, and pitying Rizilda for her ill-treatment by her husband, they took her in and kept her in disguise.  
When the lord summoned Rizilda back, he discovered that this wife had never returned to her natal home. But then, he had only exiled her, with no specific place to confine herself to. He summoned his children home under the guise of adopting two children to replace the ones he'd supposedly had killed, and Rizilda sneaked into the vast household she had once been the lady of.  
Seeing his children reminded him of the wife who had proved her value again and again. He had come to learn, in Rizilda's absence, that his servants and peers resented him for his mistreatment of his wife. He ordered his soldiers to search for her, and for a year, Rizilda lived under her husband's nose. Rizilda kept her face veiled, as the most orthodox of nuns did, and bided her time. After all, she was not lauded for her patience for nothing.  
After a year, the lord presumed his wife dead and sent an announcement through his domain that he needed a new bride.  
Donning some of her former fine raiment, Rizilda entered her husband's court as herself, beautiful as ever.  
The lord was overjoyed to see her, and welcomed her back into his household, declaring that she was the finest wife the world had ever known.  
However, Rizilda denounced him for the years of his deception, and told her that she would only be the wife of a man who was worthy of her obedience and patience. What worthy man would deceive his wife into thinking their children were dead, or to exile her when she had done no wrong?  
He ended up being chased off the estate by a mob of angry servants, and Rizilda's son was made the new lord. Under her guidance, her children grew up to be people of admirable character.  
Hrotrud concluded the tale as she tenderly stroked her granddaughter's hair.  
“You're right. Your version of the tale is better than what I grew up with,” Sialen commented with a smile. In the Coronan tale, Rizilda had let her children be taken away to be murdered, and also accepted her exile, going to her father's house to presumably spend the rest of her days. When the daughter became ten years old, the lord had her brought back to be his second wife, and Rizilda had been summoned to her husband's home to be servant to the girl and prepare her for the wedding.  
On the wedding day, Rizilda had wished her husband and the girl good luck, not knowing the girl was his own daughter. Seeing Rizilda meekly accept her position being taken by a girl not even blossomed finally softened her husband's resolve, and he revealed the entire deception to her. Rizilda was restored as lady of the house, and reunited with both of her children, to live happily ever after with the husband who had so cruelly tested her patience.  
In Corona, this tale was told to girls, to emphasize the virtues of obedience and patience. Sialen had always hated it and had vowed that she would never marry a man who thought he could treat her like that.  
“How is it told in Corona?” Fiamela asked, glancing towards Hrotrud then Sialen. The older woman nodded encouragingly, and Sialen launched into telling the tale as she'd known it for so long.  
“I wouldn't have been the least bit patient,” Hrotrud stated firmly. “Had someone tried to take or kill my child, they'd have to contend with this, and worse.” She lifted her fist into the air, shaking it.  
The women and girls chuckled over that.


	14. XIV

Moonshadows

XIV

o0o

It was a somber occasion, but regardless the sun shone warmly on a mild autumn morning, the sky carrying a wisp of cloud here and there. A breeze carried the various smells through the large clearing that served as at the town square so that Kuoji breathed in the scent of smoke, dust, cooking, decaying leaves, human body odor, and leather.  
Representatives of various classes and organizations were thronged to see the execution of a man whose name was already reviled in Yngsian history. Since this was a momentous occasion, Mahtin had been marched from the manor to the town, Yngsians lined along the way to scream obscenities or hurl objects at him.  
Many of them had traveled hundreds of miles for this occasion, something Lord Silorn had been wise enough to account for in his planning. Lord Silorn, along with the heads of the other Great Lords of Yngis had even sponsored lotteries so that commoners had their chance to see justice. These lucky ticket-holders had been given horses and provisions to keep them comfortable on their trip to the capitol of the newest Yngsian province. They also received a modest sum of money that should the winner be frugal, could last a lifetime. The drawing had been open to all middle and lower-class folks, irrespective of age or gender, so there was a rich assortment of people to witness the disgraced man's much-anticipated punishment.  
By the time the former general faced the executioner's block, he was grimy with all sorts of filth. He'd been given a bucket of water to clean his hands and face – to more boos and catcalls – before he was shoved up onto the wooden platform.  
Kuoji regarded the pinched, scowling face of one of the greatest generals Corona had ever known. At least, he was called great by people still loyal to the Sol family and the Way of the Light. He'd been responsible for the annexation of Yngis under Coronan rule two decades ago, and a great deal of atrocities committed under that rule. The name Mahtin would be a curse in the Yngsian tongue for decades, even centuries to come, and it was almost a wonder that the Lords of Yngis had not killed him outright the moment they had him in custody. Not that he would have blamed them.  
Gerard Mahtin was the third son of the previous Lord Mahtin, and like many 'spare' sons in Coronan society, had to serve his older brother, or seek his fortune elsewhere. House Mahtin had been one of the most powerful houses in Helin's court. Thanks to the prestige of his family – as well as his own ruthlessness – Gerard had risen through the ranks, and nearly a decade into his career, had been one of the prominent figures in the invasion of Yngis. His ruthless treatment of those who resisted Coronan rule brought him the King's notice, and he'd become the Governor-General of Corona's newest province.  
What followed was two decades of oppression, brutality, and systemic propaganda to try to wipe out Yngis' national and cultural pride. Yngsians who bent the knee to their conquerors were better off than those who resisted, but not by much. Yngsian women who enjoyed near-equality with their male peers found themselves reduced to second-class citizens, many of their previous rights curtailed or outright taken away. Even Yngsian men were subject to restrictions.  
Homosexuality and cross-dressing, which had been discreetly accepted in Yngis, was blasphemous in the Way of the Light. Younger sons found their inheritances greatly reduced if not eliminated completely. Heterosexual men who nonetheless enjoyed pursuits considered more feminine – such as nursing, sewing, and the like – were pressured to become more 'masculine' as the Heavenly Father had strictly prescribed roles for the sexes.  
To help the Yngsians more quickly accept the Coronan way of life, Lord Mahtin had employed brutal – and often public – methods of dealing with those who would not adhere to the Coronan mores. Women who spoke out against the restrictions set forth for them could find themselves whipped, gagged with the scold's bridle, and in quite a few instances, had their tongues removed. Homosexuals and cross-dressers were castrated. People caught engaging in plans for rebellion could be drawn and quartered, or at the very least, mutilated in some way – generally the loss of a limb or two.  
There were several in the crowd, as Kuoji had noted, who were missing an arm or a leg, and a couple who had had their eyes gouged out. Gerard Mahtin had believed that his brutal methods were effective in keeping his subjects under control, but it only made people all the more careful to conceal their activities, and when the Atyamai arrived in the spring, they'd found a welcoming populace who were only too eager to cast off the yoke of Coronan oppression. Some members of the Atyamainese army were Yngsians themselves – or children of Yngsians – who had managed to escape during the Coronan invasion or some time afterward, and their homecoming had been bittersweet.  
Many Yngsians, who had acted the part of loyal Coronan citizens, were quick to reveal their true colors, including the captain of Mahtin's personal guard. Forces loyal to Mahtin found themselves quickly overwhelmed by Yngsian and Atyamainese forces, especially since messages warning Mahtin of the Atyamainese invasion had been intercepted by Yngsian loyalists.  
Mahtin had barely been able to escape with what remained of his loyalists. However, the rest of Corona fell to the Atyamai, and there had been no place for him to hide, for Viruch and Dakul had Corona from the south and west, and the rest of Corona was bordered by the ocean. He'd been in hiding for several months until one of his servants turned him over to the Atyamainese for a handsome reward, and as part of their pact with Yngis, had turned him over to the Yngsians. He'd been in Lord Silorn's custody for nearly a month while the Lords of Yngis deliberated his fate.  
Now the former governor-general faced throngs of people, some of them whom he'd personally ordered mutilated. He stared out at them, maintaining his sour expression. Doubtless he expected the Heavenly Father to save him at this eleventh hour, or to go on to his heavenly reward for his loyal service.  
Lord Silorn rose to his feet and approached the edge of the balcony that had been constructed for him, and the screams and obscenities quieted down to a murmur as people waited for him to send Mahtin to his fate.  
“Today, we are gathered for a momentous occasion. The Dark Years of Yngis will never be forgotten, and I thank all of my comrades and fellow countrymen – and women – for the work they have done, and the sacrifices they have made for their country. Allow us to have a moment of silence for those of our comrades who lost their lives in these dark days.”  
He placed his hand over his heart, bowing his head. Kuoji did the same, and the rest of the throngs were quick to follow suit. Out of the corner of his eye, Kuoji saw a nobleman and his female companion, both in their fifties. The two were siblings, and the woman had been known as one of the most well-read women in the land. She'd authored several books, and had been a governess to several noble girls.  
Her family had bended the knee to Mahtin rather than lose their lands and possibly their lives. She'd objected to the burning of many Yngsian books, and the restrictions placed upon a woman's access to education. Despite the new laws, she'd continued educating girls with the books she'd managed to save. To make an example out of her, Mahtin ordered her blinded so that she could no longer read the books she cherished so much. Their oldest brother tried to defend his sister from this grisly fate, but had been felled by Mahtin himself in the attempt.  
The girls that Lady Rebecca had educated were sent off to an especially strict Coronan nunnery, near the northwestern reaches of Corona, desolate veldts separating them from the sea. The only book allowed within its walls were the Holy Book.  
Even though Rebecca could no longer see, she mimicked the others in the hand gesture, sightless eyes staring off at the sky, her ears doubtless sharply attuned to what was happening in front of her.  
“And I would like another moment of silence for those of us who are still here today, who have suffered. When you gaze upon these scars, do not pity them. Give them respect and dignity, and remember the love of your country.”  
Kuoji saw a faint glimmer of pleasure in Rebecca's expression before he returned his attention to the platform. Obern was solemn in green and black, the former color one of the things Coronans and Yngsians had in common in regards to mourning. He'd lost several family members, and loyal friends and servants to the Coronans. He fit well the idea of masculinity that was so dear to Corona, but as his friends would know, he was not a man who was afraid to acknowledge other people's emotions, or his own.  
“One of the virtues Yngsians love so well is justice. For so long we have been denied it, but it has finally been put in our hands. Many of us have awaited this moment. I have meditated upon it… and I have decided that it would not be just to have this man die today.”  
Confused silence, interspersed by several murmurs, rippled through the crowd.  
“Typically, we deliver our criminals from this life with a swift stroke of an ax. However, given the magnitude of Gerard Mahtin's crimes, I feel that a quick end would serve no real purpose. I saw how ill-regarded he was as he walked here. Many of you had the chance to personally express your anger towards him. And many others haven't. He has wrought suffering upon so many that he would never be able to make full amends, even in a thousand lifetimes.”  
Kuoji regarded his cousin with a thoughtful frown as Lord Silorn looked down at the condemned man. What did Obern have in mind? Community service?  
“He will spend the rest of his life in suffering. I order Gerard Mahtin to have his arms and legs removed.”  
Stunned silence greeted his words before Rebecca raised her fist in the air. Others, taking note of the blind woman, followed suit. Kuoji recognized the signal, and raised his own fist. More hands lifted as the Yngsian people processed, and understood what was about to happen, and why. The Yngsian sign of silent approval and support was one from ancient times, and the sea of fists told Gerard Mahtin how much Yngis welcomed the hell that Lord Silorn was about to wreak upon him.

o0o

Sialen rose from her seat, having completed a letter to her mother. She stared out the window, recalling the stunned expression on her father and brother's faces as they witnessed the ultimate fate of one of Corona's greatest heroes.  
To think that Gerard Mahtin had been one of her marriage prospects! The Governor-General had paid the court a visit about half a decade ago. She had immediately disliked the hatchet-faced man. When he looked at her, it made her skin crawl. Despite the things he'd done, Sialen shuddered at the horrors that awaited him. Devoid of his limbs, he would spend the rest of his days in a small space unless taken out of it for public viewing, where people could curse at him or throw things at him. He had to eat like an animal and was given only a burlap sack for modesty.  
She had turned away when it came time to remove his limbs, but she remembered hearing him scream for mercy. In response, the doomed man had only received a stinging rebuke as he was reminded of all the people he'd denied mercy to.  
Helin and Solan were fortunate that the Atyamainese had claimed them in the negotiations between Yngis and Atyamai, for if the people hated the former governor-general, of course they were going to despise his king and crown prince.  
However, Sialen had kept the account of Mahtin's fate brief and neutral in her letter. She'd paid more attention to Hrotrud's account of Risilda's tale, as well as events such as the harvest festival, which was another tradition shared by Corona and Yngis. About Helin and Solan, she said little, simply stating that they were being cared for.  
She left her rooms after pulling on a light cloak, making her way to the kitchen gardens which adjoined a yard that was often used to complete kitchen chores. Hrotrud was sitting in a rocking chair under the awning, directing the staff as to what to prepare for the day's lunch and sup. In her lap was some knitting, her thick fingers twisting the yarn around the needles deftly.  
Her granddaughter, Fiana, was playing with one of the kitchen cats, using a piece of scrap yarn. The girl's half-sister, Fianetta, was reading a book.  
As she spent time with Hrotrud, Sialen had come to greatly admire the old women. During the years of Coronan rule, Hrotrud had played the role of a subservient woman well enough to fool her would-be oppressors. The three royal families of Yngis found many allies among their people, Hrotrud's family among them. Her daughter had become Obern's mistress. About a year after Fiana was born, she had broken her neck in a fall after her horse had been struck with several arrows from a group of Coronan soldiers after a rebel mission.  
Hrotrud was now the caretaker of not only her granddaughter, but the rest of the girl's siblings until they became old enough to leave the nursery. The old woman was fiercely loyal to the father of her bastard grandchild, and Obern in turn respected her and followed her advice. Sialen observed her as she used her influence to ensure that the fulfillment of her responsibilities ran smoothly for everyone within the household, at least those who fell under her sphere of influence. She'd learned, during the Dark Years, to make the most of the limited resources former governor-general had allotted to the Yngsians.  
Sana had taught her much about Atyamainese ways, answering her questions and teaching her the language. Hrotrud was an able teacher in the ways of Yngis, and they discussed history, comparing the histories they had been taught by their respective governments. It was no secret to Coronans that they shared a history with Yngis. But from Hrotrud's stories, it was quite clear that their mother countries had different ways of viewing themselves and the other country.  
The two countries agreed that their people had come from far beyond the west. Where exactly, neither of them could quite pinpoint. This peregrination started approximately one and a half millennia ago, their ancestors settling in a new land before some calamity forced them from this new home centuries later.  
Given the differences between Coronans and Yngsians, and bits of evidence of a civil war in the old country, historians on both sides agreed that this contributed in part to the social and cultural divide.  
Whatever the specifics of the second peregrination, the Coronans had come away with the better part of the national resources. The Hgngu that had once been native to this continent had been shoved out or exterminated by the Coronan invaders thanks to the superiority of the invader's technology and resources.  
The people that would form Yngis traveled further than their counterparts, and landed on one of the eastern reaches of the continent, where Corona would establish their kingdom from the western shores. It would be many decades before all but a sparse handful of Hgngu was exterminated or exiled under the hands of the pale devils, as the Coronans were called. Although the Coronans' military might had aided in this venture, they had a deadly ally on their side – disease not native to this land, and the Hgngu's natural defenses had nothing against this virulent invader.  
The Hgngu survivors who had managed to survive sword and plague were welcomed into Yngis, where some of them intermarried, giving Yngis an ethnic diversity. She'd seen several of them here as servants, and the language they spoke amongst one another was a rich mixture of their ancestral Hgngu tongue and modern Yngsian. Amongst the mixture of Yngsian, Hgngu, Coronan, and Atyamainese residents of this estate, Sialen was receiving rich lessons in the diversity of this world and experiencing for herself cultures that broadened her world-view.  
She glanced up as she heard Hrotrud speak in the Hgngu-Yngsian tongue to several servants. Hrotrud spoke it well, and had no problem conveying her commands to the kitchen-maids, waving her arm at basketfuls of potatoes and peas as she issued instructions for that evening's sup.  
Seeing this woman come from modest means and knowing of her struggles gave Sialen cause for reflection. In the Coronan way, she was expected to marry or go to a convent. The third option was often lonely spinsterhood in the service of one's family, tending to their brother's children or rendering other services in exchange for a roof over their head and food in their belly. The Holy Book also preached about brothers and fathers protecting unmarried sisters and daughters. Even spinster aunts fell under this obligation.  
Hrotrud's daughter had also been a bastard, yet on Yngsian society, this accounted for nothing. A man was expected to provide for all of his children, whatever side of the sheets they had been conceived upon. And a woman, if she wished to support herself, could find a means, even if some opportunities were limited. If a sister or other female relative kept house for a man, she could negotiate a contract with him that helped to protect her from abuse.  
Even though she had chafed under many of the strictures of Coronan society, it was still overwhelming at times to think about the freedoms she now possessed.  
“Here, help,” Hrotrud said before she felt a weight in her lap and looked down to see a basket of peas. Almost without thinking, Sialen picked up her hands, and started shelling the peas. Though she had come of high breeding, she was not unfamiliar to working with plants. She and her sister had helped Mother in her garden, and had helped her supervise the kitchen at times. As a future lady, wife, and mother, she was expected to know how to run a household. Coronan and Yngsian society certainly did not differ in this practice. Denis and Fiamela had been out riding with the overseers while various strips of land were being farmed, and Obern's younger children observed the goings-on rather than being shut away all day at desks while dry-voiced tutors grated at them.  
Her nails dug into the pods, splitting them as they readied the peas for consumption.  
“You put a princess to work?” she heard Lord Obern say with a mild gasp. She looked up to see the tall Yngsian smirk lightly as he regarded the ladies.  
“Lady Starsmore, do please forgive Hrotrud's treatment of you. Allow me to rescue you from this predicament.” Obern's eyes twinkled as he grinned at her.  
“Be off with you, Lord Silorn,” Hrotrud replied in a mock weary tone.  
“She keeps me entertained with her stories,” Sialen replied.  
“You put the women to kitchen work while you gallivant around, hunting. How do you expect us to keep ourselves entertained?” the old woman scolded, wagging her finger.  
“Hah,” Lord Silorn replied, waving his hand. The lord and the old woman shared an amused glance before Hrotrud went back to shelling peas and Obern strode past Sialen, giving her a friendly wink.

o0o

Even though it'd been nearly a decade since she'd been here, Selestia still recognized her ancestral home as her carriage rolled down the Petal Road, which by this time had narrowed considerably when it crossed the border into the private estate of the Fiori manor.  
Though some orchards had been raised, or razed, and some of the crops rotated or fallow, Selestia recognized the gently-rolling hills that made up the vast farms of the tenants who paid homage to House Fiori. A maintained ring of forest served as a privacy and wind barrier to Meadowholt, which had been home to House Fiori for centuries.  
Like the Imperial Palace, Meadowholt had been built upon the foundations of the predecessors to the Coronans. The founder of House Fiori had been a powerful Earth Mage, and it was said that his magic had continued to enrich the land after his death, even if it seemed that his gifts had not been passed through the bloodline. The last member of House Fiori to have any touch of Earth magic was a female cousin of the main line a couple of generations back. She'd been given to the heir of the Fiori family, but their union had produced many miscarriages and stillbirths, and her line had gone extinct, her magical potential squandered and stifled by her husband and family.  
It was said that a large part of Corona's might in their Great Peregrination was their magical force. Where had that gone, historians wondered. Attempts to breed specific lines of magic often resulted in disaster or weak offspring. What did that mean for Sialen?  
Selestia's thoughts returned to reality of her surroundings as Meadowholt loomed before her, becoming larger as the horses pulled the vehicle forward. She saw several people she recognized amidst higher-ranking servants, and daintily stepped out of the carriage. The somber colors of her gown made her stand out like a raven amidst the vibrant colors she saw before her. Behind them, Meadowholt loomed, the pale sandstone of the upper parts of the manor reflecting the warm colors of the sun.  
“Welcome to Meadowholt, dear Aunt,” Reginald Fiori stepped forward. Grandson of the recently-deceased Lord Fiori and his heir before Atyamainese law placed his older sister ahead of him, the pasty-faced young man lifted his chin slightly. Despite his soft features, the fineness of his blue and white jerkin and cape did lend a bit of dignity to his look. His wife stood beside him, her chestnut brown hair plaited into an elegant coif, her expression one of demure placidity. The swell under Roslin's blue and green gown she wore alerted Selestia to Reginald's success in his filial duty to continue the bloodline.  
Reginald's younger sister stood behind him, clad in a dress of blue and white with silver embroidery of flowers in a pattern of House Fiori's symbol – a white flower on an azure field. Their younger brother Georg finished the group at fourteen years of age, and was clad in a jerkin with similar color to his siblings' garb.  
“Lords and Ladies Fiori, how lovely to see all of you,” she said, acknowledging the siblings equally. To keep peace within the family, Jacinthe had declared for the time being, her brothers and sister joint heirs in the welfare of House Fiori There certainly was more than enough in this ancient house for multiple heirs, although she knew that her father would have gone into apoplexy had he lived to see his heir denied the totality of what he was supposed to be entitled to.  
Reginald, Azalia, and Georg were as different from one another as any of the elements were from one another, as Selestia would come to observe, but these differences would prove themselves to be less of a detriment to the siblings as some would believe.  
In the meanwhile, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the hospitality of her House as she was led inside and taken to one of the posh guest apartments to ready herself for the evening. The view from her window revealed a well-kept garden, most of its greenery already harvested. Given the mild winters of the Green, productivity would continue through the year with several winter crops. It rarely snowed this far south, and Selestia wondered how her husband, son, and daughter would fare in the winters of the Islands, which Azami said could be bitter at times.  
Selfish as she knew it would sound, she was glad to not have to endure that sort of weather. She pondered her options. As a dowager queen – a respectable title bestowed upon her by Azami – she certainly had high status. She had been allowed to keep some of her jewelry, and a sum of gold had been bequeathed upon her so that she could live by independent means. If she desired a husband, that sum would serve well as a dowry. Even though she had just passed childbearing age, she was still a beautiful woman, and her skills and status would ensure a decent match.  
However, after thirty years of being married to a spoiled, bitter, tyrannical husband she had no desire to yoke herself to another man. With her money, she could buy a modest estate and farm it as she saw fit or use it for a commercial enterprise; Atyamainese law now allowed a woman as much opportunity to this as a man.  
Or she could simply live here, ending her days in the place she had been born. It was expected of widows to lead quiet lives and care for their families, as the role of mother rarely ended in Coronan society once it was taken upon. If Reginald, or any of his siblings had daughters, she would be looked to as a mentor and benefactress. As Queen, she was well known for the example she led with her life, and even before marriage, there was a reason why her father had offered her to House Sol as a bride for the then-King's eldest son.  
Selestia turned from the window. She had no desire to tread along these avenues. Yet she was not certain what she did want. In the span of a quarter of a year, her life had been turned upside down. Being here at Meadowholt was almost overwhelming, especially considering that now, she could do nearly anything she'd wanted. The woman who'd expected slavery and degradation at the hands of her captors had come to learn that goodness came in different forms, many of them not proscribed in the Holy Book.  
Summoning a servant, she called for a bath, feeling weary from many days on the road. Perhaps this was the reward for the years she'd suffered. After all, it was said that the Heavenly Father worked in mysterious ways.  
Reginald hosted a sumptuous banquet, befitting of a dowager queen and for the next week, things went on pleasantly. The way things proceeded were little different than they had in the old days, and the familiar scents and sights took Selestia back to her childhood, where she had been more innocent and carefree, before the ugly realities of the world settled in. And even now, it appeared as if the Atyamainese had never invaded.  
Lord Reginald Fiori sat at the head table, in the seat of honor as was the right of every Lord of the Green. Lesser nobles, vassals, and serfs alike came to pay homage, kneeling before the table, and if they were fortunate, they might get to share in said meal. Azalia and Georg were usually silent or conversing quietly with others. When holding Court, Reginald again assumed the rule that his forebears had filled, deciding cases and granting petitions. It seemed at times that he was not consciously aware of the shift in power because of the perceived obeisance of his younger siblings.  
It appeared that his siblings permitted him to take the leading role in most functions. In the old Coronan hierarchy, unmarried sisters and brothers were expected to give their oldest brother support. On the surface, it did not seem that things were much different now than they had been. And Lady Roslin performed the usual duties of a noblewoman, and she did them well, ensuring that the household ran smoothly. Having presided over domestic affairs for the last three decades, it felt strange being no longer mistress of the household.  
Since their mother was dead, Roslin was like a stepmother to her younger in-laws, and she and Azalia sometimes butted heads. As Selestia came to observe in her time at Meadowholt, Azalia and Georg had gifts that made them indispensable to the Meadows. Azalia loved being outdoors, and excelled at horseback riding, animal husbandry, gardening, and farming. She truly was a child of the Green, and had there been any skilled enough Mage around, they would have noted a touch of long-lost Earth magic within Azalia. As a lady, her knowledge of these coarser subjects were supposed to be somewhat limited, but the noble-born woman did not shy away from dirt and now that she had been given a stakes in the Meadows, she was determined to protect her investment.  
Roslin would encourage her to sew, or other pursuits which were supposed to make her more desirable as a marriage prospect, and the young Fiori woman would simply toss her hair over her shoulder and laugh, saying that flowers belonged in the dirt, and what was she but Lady Fiori, whose sigil was a flower?  
It was true that some of the lesser lords as well as serfs had a difficult time accepting a woman in such a position of authority, but Reginald was intelligent enough to see the value his sister had, and used his own power to vest his Azalia with official authority, something Roslin had to accept. Although a part of his decision was also aided by the fact that he was told in no unclear terms that if he would not share Fiori's wealth with his family, he would get none of it for himself.  
Georg on the other hand had a talent for reading numbers. He was already helping the majordomo with the household expenses and estate accounts, and it seemed apparent that when he became old enough, he'd become the House accountant. In due time, with his own share of Fiori's wealth, he could choose to make investments or sales without needing his brother's permission. As Selestia observed the family dynamics, she gained a better idea of what she wanted for her own future.

o0o

Sialen tightened the collar of her fur-trimmed cloak as she and Kuoji strolled in the woods near the stream where they'd had their first encounter a decade ago. A spate of mild and sunny days had the river at an ordinary ebb. At a bend, the water gathered into a pool before tumbling several feet downstream. Red and gold foliage danced on the wind as brown leaves crunched underfoot.  
“Mmm, this brings back memories.” Kuoji stood near the bank, looking down at the pool before following the water downstream. “I saw your brother chase you here, and shove you into the water,” the Atyamainese prince continued as Sialen came to his side.  
“And a noble prince came to my rescue,” Sialen finished for him sweetly. He pulled her into his embrace, and when his lips pressed against her own, she parted them. His embrace tightened, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling his warmth press into her. A loving nibble along her lower lip had her core aching, and with a soft moan, she turned her face away. He placed kisses along her cheek and ear.  
“My prince,” she whispered. He lifted his head, looking down at her lovingly. Slowly, he relaxed his grip, and slid away from her before taking her hand, leading her along the thin path that ran near the stream. The cool autumn breeze was a welcome balm to the heat in her cheeks. Their ungloved hands kept a firm but gentle grip, and a gentle squeeze alerted her to his desire to speak.  
The sunlight filtered through the leaves, causing a dance between luminescence and shadow. Kuoji's eyes sparkled like emeralds when he tilted his face skyward, and he gazed back down at her as he lifted her hand to his lips. Warmth returned to her cheeks as he stared into her eyes. She felt her hand being lowered before he pressed it to his chest, where she felt the thud of his heart beneath the layers of fabric that kept him warm.  
“I love you.” Sialen was so lost in the serenity of the moment that she almost did not register the words that met her ears.  
“Kuoji.” Her whisper was so soft she was not sure she had actually uttered it.  
“I love you,” he repeated. He squeezed her hand. “I have made no secret of my affection and respect for you.” His free hand reached up to touch her cheek. “I wish to share my life with you, my princess.”  
Kuoji had indeed been candid about his feelings for her. She commanded his desire, and could have used it to manipulate him. It was not difficult to see what sort of potential futures she had. Even as nothing more than a royal mistress, she would command a certain level of power and wealth. As a wife and potential future Empress, Kuoji's desire opened to her possibilities few women ever experienced.  
“Do you wish to share your future with me, Sialen?” Kuoji asked after she'd been silent for several moments. She blinked and nodded quickly right before she noticed the beginning of worry in his features melt away to joy.  
“I only ask that I be given time, my prince. I am going to be a stranger in a strange land.”  
“A stranger under my protection. And blessed with my love,” he reminded her. She smiled at him. He offered his arm and she took it, continuing along the path with her prince.


	15. XV

Moonshadows

XV

o0o

Atyamai had started as a collection of islands near the northeastern part of the world – or according to some, northwestern – and the Atyamainese had not forgotten their humble beginnings. Even as the empire expanded after Nagadiu Toid's descendants completed her work in unifying the Five Clans, the Black Isles was first and forever the motherland. The Empire had expanded onto the continent of Aetl, where many of its provinces had more boundaries with other lands instead of coastlines, but the navy of the Dark Hand remained a formidable force.  
Recognizing the necessity of a strong navy early in their history, the Dark Hand sought opportunities to innovate their technology as well as learning what they could from other cultures.  
The most intelligent and promising students in these times were sent to other lands to further their education and add to the knowledge base of the Atyamainese academic elite. Engineers and shipbuilders who could prove their designs found generous sponsors among the Tekuras or their allies, and mages of Air and Water studied the skies and the seas, and used their magic to manipulate wind and waves for speedier journeys. Mathematicians and astronomers delved into the world of numbers and the movement of celestial bodies, their education rivaling that of the mages, who in many other lands were a privileged elite.  
Although many of the ships in the harbor were absent on military or mercantile trips, there was still a fair amount of vessels along the docks, including a couple that had recently arrived, laden with goods from the south.  
The harsher clime of the Mother Islands – as well as only so much available land – limited the crops they could grow, and the variety. Most farmland was devoted to necessary crops, those that sustained the people of all classes, from the most base peasant to the Emperor himself.  
Silk and exotic spices were a commodity that yielded rich results, and it came from something that was common here – potatoes. Spirits made from potatoes and root vegetables was relatively easy to produce here, and considered exotic in other lands, especially after adding certain spices or fruit juices to the fermentation process, a secret that Atyamainese moonshiners guarded fiercely.  
The lady padded along the boardwalk and down the docks, given a respectable berth due to her obvious high status. People could not help but notice the gold-embroidered parasol she carried and the fine satin garments she was clad in, deep, vibrant colors visible under the soft wool wrap that draped from her shoulders to fend off the chill. Her crisply-attired servant trotted alongside her, paper and pens in his leather folio.  
“My lady,” the captain bowed as she stopped several paces short of the gangplank that led into one of the merchant ships. After exchanging the proper greetings and niceties, she decided to waste no time.  
“I trust that you have obtained everything I asked for,” she said, staring into his eyes for a moment.  
“But of course, my lady! Only the finest of spices, and the oils, I only use sources with the best reputation. It would be an insult to offer a lady of your stature anything less for her elegant art.”  
She smiled thinly at that. Let him assume what he wanted of her procilvities.  
“There is one thing that does concern me. I have heard that a particular spice I wanted had become increasingly rare...”  
“Have no concern. Nothing but a rumor, my lady, and plenty enough for you, obtained at a most decent price. Merchants thrive on rumors to bolster their trade, hah!” The rough-looking but still fairly handsome man looked down at her with a smile, revealing teeth that had seen better days.  
Her own smile widened into a genuine one, though not at his. “Oh, wonderful.” The carefully-selected code words informed her that he'd been able to accomplish the special favor she'd asked of him. A favor that would render his life forfeit, if he ever revealed to anyone the secrets she entrusted to him.  
Not that he knew that, of course – the small bribe she'd paid him led him to believe that this was no grand secret – and thus, one that he would not think to try to blackmail her over. Nor was he truly aware of just what it was he did, but he was the sort of man who thought himself especially clever, and it was easier for her to allow him to believe that. His intelligence and competence as a captain balanced out his ego, making him a good middle-man for her schemes.  
She was also not unaware of the fact that he found her attractive, and fancied that one day he might be able to bed such a highborn lady. That would never happen though; she would not debase herself with such an act. If she had any fantasies of him, it was kicking him overboard or pushing his head under water and watching him struggle for his life.  
It would be easy for her to move south, and establish herself in a place where certain avenues were easier, but then, that would place her far from the Imperial Court, and that simply would not do.

o0o

The Mayor's house loomed before Kuoji and Sialen as they looked up at the familiar stone facade. Once a hereditary position of one of the Coronan loyalist Houses, the position and estate had been given to Rebecca's brother, Randell. His nephew, son of the man who Mahtin had killed for defending his sister, was heir to House Prine, but as a reward for their staunch support of Yngis, Obern Silorn had ensured that the other members of House Prine were to be rewarded. Randell and Rebecca were to live here, Lady Prine serving as superintendent of the school system that was to be established here. She would have readers and writers, so her blindness need not be a deterrent in the work she had started so many years ago.  
“I like what the Prines have done to this place,” Kuoji commented as he looked around. The walls now hung with the banners of Yngsian imagery as well as several sigils of heraldry, denoting House Prine as well as the Three Lordly Houses of Yngis. Much of the furniture that Sialen remembered from previous visits had been replaced with items with a distinctly Yngsian flavor to them.  
“It certainly is… nice,” Sialen murmured. She was ambivalent towards the new look, well aware that some of the comparisons she noted were a matter of custom and personal taste.  
“Welcome, welcome!” Randell moved toward them, shaking Kuoji's hand before bowing to Sialen. “I understand that you two are no strangers to this city.” Sialen nodded. In fact, Kuoji would be even more familiar, having spent much of his childhood on the outskirts of this city.  
For all the noble citizens that resided or summered in Goldenvale, a fair percentage of its permanent population lived in poverty. Kuoji remembered his early years well, hearing other boys brag about picking pockets downtown, or at the least finding a dropped coin here and there. Hos mother had refused to consider begging, no matter how mean their finances might have been. With the school system the Prines hoped to establish, poorer citizens would have a fair chance to better themselves and enter respectable trades. Just as they had done for the Hgngu, Yngsians would welcome Coronans into their number – at least, those who wanted to. Many had fled the initial Atyamainese invasion, and only a few had come back.  
“So, I was thinking that you and I would take a ride along these neighborhoods you told me about? I know some food was dispersed to them by Lord Silorn, but many of them still do not have jobs due to a shortage of ready employers.”  
Kuoji nodded briefly. Some Yngsians had set up business here, but it had been a bustling city until half as year ago, and some of the buildings had been damaged or abandoned, along with a fair amount of farms.  
“Form crews, that will create jobs. Have them clean out and salvage heavily-damaged areas, and start reconstruction as soon as possible. That will create some income and offer some stability for the time being,” Rebecca commented, without preamble.  
“And that's why you're the deputy mayor,” Lord Prine commented. Rebecca chuckled softly.  
“I already have a statement drafted for you to look at,” she replied. Her recent years might have been dark, but her mind was as sharp as ever. “In the meanwhile, I am in need of some fresh air. I understand there are shops in this neighborhood, and since this is to be my home, I may as well acquaint myself with the surroundings. Would Lady Starsmore be so kind as to escort me?”  
Lord Prine glanced toward his guests with a questioning lift of his brow.  
“I would be more than happy to, Lady Prine. I am curious to see what has changed since I was last here. So this will be a learning experience for us.”  
“Well then, I guess that's settled,” Lord Prine commented cheerfully.

o0o

Rebecca's hand rested lightly on Sialen's forearm as the two of the strolled along the bricked walk. The streets surrounding the Mayor's House and the homes of the elite were lined in pale gravel, while the sidewalks were a step above, in raised brick. The older woman's wooden cane swayed in front of her in measured arcs, lightly tapping along the surface, her cloak swishing around her ankles.  
Some of the private residences were closed up, shutters barred, doors padlocked. Some of these had overgrown weeds and plants, due to groundskeepers and majordomos who had run off at the invasion. Some had been taken over by Yngsians, and a few Coronan families were visible. Whatever tumult this city had gone through in the battle, it appeared that people were doing their best to move on.  
She walked past familiar places, whispering descriptions to Rebecca about this or that, and mentioning the names of the streets they crossed. She'd strolled these streets in the past, in the company of her mother and other respectable women, for some coffee, a quilting party, or a ladies' parlor session, in the company of fine, upstanding Coronan ladies. Here in this haven, it was considered appropriate for groups of ladies to walk the streets together to enjoy the fresh air, for it was one thing physicians recognized; that walking improved the circulation. This conventional wisdom allowed these women certain freedoms in a male-dominated society, albeit in numbers and chaperoning one another. There were many a time that she would pay late morning or afternoon visits to the Mayor, or other residents in this gated community, and she'd always considered the walks to be the best part of these social excursions.  
Thank the Mother for small favors, Sialen thought wryly as she recalled these walks, and how she'd often wished these walks were longer, or that her companions would talk amongst one another and leave her to her thoughts.  
Several of the houses she had visited were now occupied by Yngsians and even an Hgngu-Yngsian family. Some of the shops were different now, she was quick to note. A few were still closed, but it certainly looked as if effort was being made to fill the city and have it thriving again.  
“There's the Sunrise Inn,” Sialen pointed out. It had been part of this city for as long as she could remember, and was the inn that usually catered to clients who did not have their own estate here to retire to, or for high-ranked agents and representatives. Across the street and down the corner, behind high walls was a small convent, where some noble daughters were sent to live in seclusion while being trained to serve the Father with their voices, or with their skill in instruments. Caged songbirds, they had been called. Their music had often been employed in church services, but now under Yngsian rule, the girls could choose to leave if they so wished, said Lord Silorn. Some of the girls came from families whose fortunes had been drastically reversed with the war, so this option was not always the easy one.  
Rebecca insisted on going further, and Sialen obliged her, their guards following them as they circled around. Rebecca had adapted well to her disability, and her cane seemed to almost not touch the ground as she listened to Sialen.  
“Shh,” Rebecca whispered. She stared off into nothingness and Sialen glanced around. There were several shops and a smithy, and she heard the strikes of a hammer against metal from a block away. A breeze carried with it the smell of coffee, transported from the rich, warm climes of the Green to these mountainous regions. In the mornings, some taverns would serve coffee instead of beer, either to the servants and early workers of the neighborhood, or if the establishment was more upscale, then to better-off clientele to socialize, and even do a bit of business or gambling.  
Such places were not considered proper for ladies though, falling squarely within the territory of the Coronan male stomping grounds. She looked around, seeing an instrument shop and apothecary. Suddenly, there was a strangled yowl, and a child's cry. She glanced toward Rebecca. “I will go see what it is.”  
Her Atyamainese guard accompanied her while Lady Rebecca waited with her own guard.  
“Stop! Please!” she heard a plaintive cry before there were sounds of a struggle. A sharp turn led Sialen and her guard to a clearing that served as a private courtyard of sorts, and the first thing she noticed was a gasping, struggling cat, its scruff held firmly by an adolescent boy who appeared to be in his mid-teens. On the cobbled ground was a young girl whose age Sialen put at five or six, and her face was streaked with dirt and tears. The clothing of both children indicted solid middle-class, likely the offspring of shopkeepers or merchants.  
Sialen barely registered all of this as she fixed her eyes upon the wretched creature in the boy's hand, its tail curled just above the surface of the water in the rain-barrel.  
“What is going on?” she demanded. The boy blinked and glared at her.  
“None of your damn business, woman. This is a family matter. Leave.”  
She stared him down, seeing the malice in his gaze. It reminded her all too well of her brother and the pleasure he took in performing acts of cruelty. The barest of smirks graced his strong features.  
“And take slanty-eyes with you.” he added with a sneer.  
“I will when you give me the cat,” she countered. The girl stared at her with curious, fearful eyes.  
“Look, lady, my sister was bothering me so I thought I'd teach her a lesson, is all.” He flashed her a grin that was meant to be charming, but having grown up around Solan, she was not fooled.  
“Lies! Lies! The Father commands you to not lie!” the girl demanded as she rose to her feet, trying to brush the mud from her skirt.  
“Shut up!” the boy snarled, and the girl flinched back.  
“Give me the cat,” Sialen repeated calmly. She held out her hands.  
“Slag off, bitch. You're not the boss of me!” He squared his shoulders, and though he might have been mildly-born, his stance spoke of someone confident in his strength.  
“The cat. Now.” Sialen felt her heart pounding, but she lifted her chin, exuding cool regality. With a grunt, the boy tossed the cat aside, and Sialen heard a weak yowl as the boy lunged at her. As she'd been taught by Sana, she twisted herself to one side, and the boy stumbled forward before finding the blade of a sword at his throat. He looked up to see the Atyamainese man stare down at him with an impassive glance, the tip of the blade pressing gently against the skin that pulsed above his jugular.  
Sialen rushed over to the cat, seeing it twitch as it struggled to breathe. She gently ran her hand along its side, and felt water. Too much of it, but then the cat had obviously been submerged in the barrel. It would die if she did not do something.  
“Breathe,” she whispered, trying to remember what she'd learned about the healing arts. She'd never been a good student in that subject, damn it. If she could just get the water out…  
That's it. I could… Before, she'd always struggled with her magic when trying to heal. But under the tutelage of an Atyamainese Water Mage, she came to a better understanding of her element and how she could work its natural magic. If I can draw the water out…  
She closed her eyes as she rested her hand on the cat's side, feeling the water that sloshed around in the cat's lungs as it tried to take in air. Her fingers curled as she coaxed the water out of the airways, directing it out of its confines. The cat made several odd noises which made it harder for her to concentrate, but finally, the last of water expelled from the cat's mouth. It took several wheezing breaths before shakily trying to pull itself to its feet. She considered petting it before holding her hands back, not wishing to frighten it any further, and took the time to notice its solid black coat. At that time, the poor kitten was dripping wet, so he looked like he'd been dipped in ink.  
“You saved him! May the Mother bless you, my lady!” the girl said as she scooped the cat up into her arms.  
Sialen stared at her for a moment before rising to her own feet. The kitten struggled out of the girl's arms and wound around Sialen's ankles.  
“Was your… brother?” she asked, and the girl nodded in confirmation, “really going to kill that kitten?”  
The girl was silent for several long moments, glancing over at her brother fearfully.  
“What did you tell him before? That the Father commands people to not lie.”  
“He already killed two of the kittens,” she whispered. “And he said he'd punish me if I ever told anybody.”  
“Does he also like being mean to you? Or others?”  
“Yes, my lady. When Mother or Father are not looking,”  
Sialen sucked in a breath as she stroked her chin. “Your brother committed several crimes, including trying to assault me. I can have him taken away,” she promised. She had no doubt that Kuoji would wish to have anyone who dared attack her taken away,  
There was a glimmer of happiness in the girl's eyes before she frowned thoughtfully. “Then my father would be angry.”  
Sialen let out a slow breath. “I am sorry, but your brother attacked me. Your father may come petition at the Mayor's House, but your brother is coming with us. My lord does not regard lightly those who would do me harm.” She glanced over at the boy, who was now regarding her with an expression of thinly veiled hatred.  
“The Father disciplines those who step away from their place,” the boy snarled.  
“Mayor's House?” they heard a gasp, and Sialen turned her head to see a woman that she presumed was the mother of the siblings, given her similar hair and eye coloring. Her hair was pulled back in a bun and though she wore an apron, her clothing was fine enough to confirm Sialen's original assumptions about the children.  
“Mesdame,” Sialen paused. She realized how the scene might look to the gentlewoman. However, it was the girl that provided the explanation in a fast gush of words after she ran to her mother, clinging at her skirt.  
“I suppose a fine is to be paid for disturbing the peace?” the woman asked in a mild tone that barely hid something else. Was the tenseness from nervousness or exasperation?  
“No. Your son tried to attack me after I caught him trying to kill this kitten. He will be taken into custody,”  
“On whose authority?” the woman asked.  
“My authority, as Lady Sialen Starsmore.”  
The woman stared at her for a moment before a quiet 'oh' burst from her lips, and realization dawned upon her just how much trouble her son had gotten himself into. As her eyes widened, Sialen stared back at her calmly.  
“I regret this has happened, mesdame, but his actions made this unavoidable,” Sialen stated. “You and your husband may come to the Mayor's House. Bring the girl with you.”

o0o

Rebecca cocked her head as she heard the sounds of a struggle. It sounded like someone was being dragged along, approaching her.  
“What's hap-” she started to ask when her guard whispered into her ear just what he was seeing. Sialen quickly added to his words, explaining what had happened.  
“Goodness, what a dreadful little boy,” Rebecca commented. “Is it like this among all Coronan men? Blinding women and torturing kittens?” she teased. A small snort met her ears.  
“Fuck you, you blind old cunt,” she heard an angry voice exclaim, trying to be tough but cracking just at the end.  
“Fuck me with what, that tiny little prick of yours? Ha!” With that, she swung her cane, smirking tightly as the wood made contact with flesh, hearing the youth exclaim in surprise and pain. She might no longer have her sight, but she'd learned how to use her hearing to take in her surroundings.

o0o

“That boy is lucky you do not cut off his hand for attempting to strike her,” Obern said as he regarded his younger cousin. He, Kuoji, and Lord Prine were privately discussing what was to be done with the boy, among other issues that had come up after the Yngsians had taken over. Lords Silorn and Prine faced a unique challenge in choosing to live here, for this was not their native land. Like the Atyamainese, the Yngsians had to deal with Coronans who resented the change in regime.  
“He is lucky that we are willing to wait for a petition from his father,” Kuoji grimly remarked. The man might have been sooner, but according to his wife, he'd been out to the family farm to help his younger brothers with the last of the harvest while their oldest son managed the shop. Kuoji had seen the youth, and there was that same casual emptiness in the boy's eyes that he'd seen in Solan's when the former Prince was mistreating animals. Jasin had insisted that he was only destroying the cat because it was the Way of the Light. Black cats were indeed seen as bad luck for Coronans, but if the Khristoph had genuinely believed he was doing good, he would have killed the poor creature much more quickly. He showed no remorse in the act, nor had he shown any regret over killing the other kittens.  
Frankly, Kuoji had no desire to return the boy to his family. Children who enjoyed cruelty to animals almost inevitably turned to hurting other people as time went by, when animals became no longer sufficient for their twisted desire. Yet he could not execute the boy simply for what he had done. Deciding a term of imprisonment would be tricky enough. The new rulers of this province could not be seen as too lenient, or too harsh.  
“It's clear from our trip that there are still those who resent Yngsian rule.” Kuoji sighed, sitting back as he recalled the sullen glares he'd seen as he and Lord Prine toured the poorer sections of Goldenvale. Many of the people here had worked as servants for the upper-citizens, which meant that a good amount of them were out of jobs as their employers fled Goldenvale or were killed in combat. Many sons from these families had also perished, and given the change in regime, their widows or families would not receive their pensions.  
Harshly persecuting a youth for what many Coronans would have seen as a light offense – if at all, as some would view Sialen's actions as interference – would not be well-received among considerable sections of the population.  
“I knew that becoming governor here would not be an easy task, but...” Obern pinched the bridge of his nose. "There has been so much to do, and now we have some idiot kid who gets his jollies from drowning kittens.”  
Sialen could not be faulted in how she had handled the situation. Kuoji would have done the same himself. “We have some time yet,” he counseled the other two. “We all knew that this would be no easy task. Nonetheless, all of us have committed to a common cause. We will figure something out.” He rose from his seat. Lords Obern and Prine stared up at him from their seats by the fire.

o0o

Khristoph Smyt, the father of the boy Sialen had taken into custody, showed up two days later, demanding an immediate audience with the new Mayor.  
The burly, rust-haired man was forced to cool his heels for half a day while the appropriate people were called upon. As a noblewoman and raised in the ways of being a proper hostess, Rebecca had nuncheon provided for the family, but Khristoph remained surely, barely holding onto the niceties that a commoner – however prosperous he might be – he was expected to give to those of upper rank.  
Sialen glanced down at Meser Smyt and his wife. The woman was sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard as her husband walked back and forth at a brisk pace. The name Smyt and its various spellings or additions were common through Corona, coming from a time when people were starting to use second and family names, and a common inspiration was the person's occupation.  
Kuoji and Rebecca had discussed with her the concerns and ramifications of this case, and Sialen knew that the meeting would have to proceed carefully. With Corona no longer existing, Khristoph could argue that she was no longer a noblewoman, but it was a minor technicality in the grand scheme of things as she was now Lady Starsmore, with more power and privilege in this new order than as a princess in the old. Kuoji did not want the youth released to his family, for he was certain that Jasin would simply go back to bullying his younger siblings – among others – and killing more animals.  
The Atyamainese even had a certain word for such a person. Sapafs, they were called, those who had no regard for the welfare or emotions of others, and never would understand or care about the difference between right and wrong. If they obeyed the law or social mores, it was solely for their own benefit. In another world and time, these depraved souls would be called sociopaths.  
She looked down as the cat wound around her ankles, purring softly. She still had not decided what to name the cat that had apparently decided that she was his human.  
“Hi, kitty,” she whispered, scooping him up and holding him against her chest. He purred and snuggled within her embrace, and she smiled and scratched him under his chin.

o0o

Annellie Smyt looked around her in wonder as she accompanied her family into the grand vestibule of the Mayor's House. Polished wood pillars stretched from a foundation of brick and stone, and cream-colored plaster and pale wood planks were worked together in elegant union. The building was old but well-cared for, and she glanced at an ornate sconce before her mother sharply tugged her along.  
Things had been much better at home without Jasin. The remaining kittens were safe, and she didn't need to worry about Jasin's pranks or pokes. She could write her letters in peace and not have to listen to baby Gerard's wailing after Jasin would poke him or wake him up on purpose to make his sister's job of minding the baby more difficult.  
A sharp tug on her cap brought her out of her reverie as Mother straightened it, retying the ribbon under her chin. She fussed over Robb's collar, making sure that her oldest son looked suitable enough to go before the Mayor. Mother had fussed around since Jasin was taken, determined to present the image of a proper middle-class family who did their best to be upstanding citizens in society.  
Starched linen caps and camisoles for the women, and shirts for the men of the same material with hems embroidered with gold or silver thread denoted this respectable rank. Visible under their capes, jerkins, or jackets, these garments marked people who could claim a steady, respectable prosperity, and therefore, a certain elevated status above the commoner. It was something her parents were stubbornly proud of, and Mother would lecture her about how cleanliness and primness were proper traits for a lady, even one not nobly-born.  
Mother had then put her in a pink mantle embroidered with flowers, and a brown wool underskirt. The skirt itched a bit and she tried her best to not reach down as her family was brought before a small tribunal. The servant that guided them motioned for Father to come forward while his family sat in several chairs nearby. In silence, Annellie regarded her hosts. There was Lady Starsmore to the right, and next to her, the blind noblewoman. To have her eyes put out for teaching girls to read, how awful! Though Annellie had not been meant to know that, it was something she'd overheard when Mother was speaking with a neighbor about their new Mayor.  
In the center was a tall blond man that she was certain was Lord Silorn. He was supposed to be their new King, although he didn't use that title. Nor was he King of all Yngis. It confused her a bit, that their new king was a king but not a king. He only ruled part of Yngis, but yet the country remained whole. Father had described the notion as foolish, but as long as there were no more wars and they could continue their worship, he could get on with things, regardless if there was one king or several lords.  
Next to him was the Mayor, and then to the left of him, Prince Kuoji Tekura. When she was younger, she'd often heard of the Atyamainese being described as ugly, but he was far from the beast she'd once imagined. It was the same with the Atyamainese guard who'd pointed his sword at Jasin over what happened with the kitten. Their eyes might have a shape that was different, but she didn't see anything that was awful to look at.  
Seated to the sides were several dozen people, a few she recognized as longtime citizens of the city. They sat in silence, though one older woman gave her a kind smile. She smiled back before her mother tugged her forward again.  
Annellie cringed a bit as Jasin was brought into the room, his hands manacled but otherwise he looked clean enough and fed. He flashed her a sullen glare before turning to stand alongside his father.  
“I am sorry that my son tried to attack a noblewoman. He is but a boy, and an impetuous one at that. Allow me to pay a fine, and you can be sure that I will discipline Jasin!” Father said.  
Mother, please don't let him come back home, Annellie silently prayed. What sort of mercy was it to allow someone to continue to wreak cruel mischief?  
“Had it been no more than harmless mischief, I would be glad to let you do your duty.” Lord Silorn looked grim as he stared down at Father. “But investigation reveals more than boyish mischief.”  
“My lord, my family and I are Coronan. We have been raised in Coronan ways, and my son was merely reacting to a stranger who was attempting to stop him from doing what he believed was morally right.”  
“Nonetheless, the fact remains that you and your wife signed the charter. Of Coronan heritage no one can deny, but you and your children became Yngsian citizens when you signed it. You agreed to obey our laws.”  
She remembered this, from what Father had explained to his children. Things had been difficult for some time. A battle had been fought just outside the city, with the joint Yngsian and Atyamainese forces quickly capturing Goldenvale. Some Coronans fled, but Father, ever stubborn, insisted on staying. He had come from commoner ancestry and was a proud man who would not leave behind what he had worked for to start over again in Corona, even poorer than his ancestors had been. And his decision had been proven right, something that Father was not slow in letting his family forget. The Heavenly Father placed the father in the leadership of the household, and when the rest of Corona fell soon afterward, Father was happy to remind Mother – who had wanted to run – that there had been nowhere to flee.  
He groused at signing the charter, but his bullheadedness was balanced with just enough pragmatism. Citizen of Corona or Yngis was of no matter, for the family would continue to walk the Way of the Light, and the Father would reward those who remained faithful to him. The coffeehouse would go on, and be a haven for business- and tradesmen who came through Goldenvale. Things were almost the same way as before, and the days went by as they had always – including suffering from Jasin's bullying.  
“He disobeyed the direct order of a noblewoman, and tried to attack her.”  
“He did not know-”  
“Yes. He did not know she was a noblewoman, although her attire should have more than hinted at that fact,” Lord Silorn said. “Nonetheless, it is against Yngsian law to threaten a person without just cause. In this case, the cause is not deemed just.”  
Annellie observed the back of her father's head and neck become pink. In private, Father had quite a few derogatory comments about their new lords. However, in public, he had enough tact, as Mother said, to bite his tongue, however much the tongue might bleed. At least, most of the time.  
“It was a cat!” Father exclaimed in a restrained tone. “Lady Starsmore could have simply walked away and this unfortunate incident never would have happened.”  
Annellie and the rest of the family listened as Father tried to restrain his voice, going back and forth with Lord Silorn several times as the case was made clearer to him.  
“Yes, my son is high-spirited, but-”  
“Father, if I might speak?” Jasin asked. “Lord Silorn?” he asked, bowing his head.  
Oh no. For his cruelty, Jasin could be capable of great charm and charisma. He'd gotten himself out of trouble quite a few times with flattering comments and well-worded questions and clever diversions from the subject.  
“You have been silent through this proceeding so far. Go ahead,” Lord Silorn said with a lift of his chin.  
“I have been in gaol for a couple of days now. I can not deny that I found it an unpleasant experience, but I did find it humbling.” He lowered his head, looking suitably chastened. “I freely admit to making mistakes. As much as I pray to the Heavenly Father, the Dark Sister tempts me often. I am as much flawed as any other boy. Sometimes I do give my parents a hard time, but it is my sincerest hope that one day, I can grow into upstanding men such as my father or older brother.” He raised his head, looking backwards at his family with a gentle expression – only the glint of his eyes betrayed him – before returning his attention to those in front of her.  
“I am frustrated with my struggles, and I took it out on a creature that seemed to be the very manifestation of that. I was determined to not allow someone to stop me from doing what I thought was good, and I erred. I was also frightened when I was being dragged from my home – as anyone would be – and I acted poorly towards a blind woman when I swore at her.” At that, he lightly rubbed a spot just under his knee,” I still have the bruise she gave me as rebuke, and I take it gracefully. I ask for forgiveness.”  
She clenched her hands against her skirt as she noticed the blind lady's lips stretch in a tight line, and Lady Starsmore narrowed her eyes slightly. Lady Starsmore then glanced at Lord Prine, and Annellie held her breath. How often had Jasin charmed her, or their parents, with such words? He was so quick on the spot when suddenly confronted over various misdeeds, doubtless he'd spent his time in gaol to think of this marvelous mixture of words! His gift with words was one that Annellie wished the Father had not been so generous with.  
The five adults in front of Father and Jasin stared at them solemnly.  
“We can not put a child to death,” said the Atyamainese prince.  
“I agree, but the love and discipline of parents is not adequate for him,” said Lady Starsmore.  
Annellie's eyes widened slightly. Was it possible that her horrid brother wouldn't be coming home, at least not for a while? Gaol was supposed to be for really, really bad people. A spanking was generally enough to keep her in line and she did not need one often, and Father said that gaol was for people who did not learn from spankings. Perhaps gaol would be what Jasin needed to be a good boy.  
“Although this is Yngis, the Charter allows people to practice their faith within the privacy of their homes. I have read some of the Holy Book, and hold a basic understanding of this… struggle between the Heavenly Father and the Dark Sister.” Lord Silorn stroked his chin. “Jasin, you speak of fighting the Dark Sister, and trying to become an ideal father figure? I would be remiss if I tried to impede that spiritual development.” Lord Silorn beckoned to his peers, and they huddled around his chair as they spoke.  
Annellie let out a slow breath. She'd grown up with the Way of the Light, and even now, Father and several other Coronan families in the neighborhood held services every seventh day, as every good Coronan was supposed to. When possible, people went to a church, but in cases such as this – where the grand Goldenvale church was stripped of its wealth and finery, and its priests forced out, those who wished to maintain the Way of the Light had to accept the concession the Charter gave them. It was better than nothing, practical Coronans argued. The Holy Book told of hard times in the past, and the future, and one had to persevere and hold the faith.  
There were nightly readings before supper, as well as morning and evening prayers. They'd recently been to a baptism, where a priest had conducted the ceremony, having been given room and board by a minor Coronan nobleman a block and a half down from them. So far, the family had held their own amidst the change of regime, using the Holy Book to guide them, quoting scripture about patience in dark times, and tests of endurance and faith. Father and several other families also made donations, even though Atyamainese and Yngsian law now abolished the tithes.  
Yes, they were a very godly household. Anyone who lived under his roof, boomed Father often, would tread the Way of the Light, or tread elsewhere. The Holy Book also preached about the Mother's kindness and mercy, but Jasin was lacking in that. Not simply because he hadn't matured enough to understand, but because it seemed like there was something missing from him. She saw it in the way he would stare at certain people or animals. Even at her young age, she instinctively knew that he was dangerous.  
Lord Silorn and his companions returned to their seats.  
“If you are so prone to temptation, then it is best that I remove you from it. You shall remain in the Mayor's custody here at the House, and work shall be found for you. Your hands and mind shall be engaged in useful occupation, and you can become a man worthy of the esteem of your Heavenly Father.”  
Father let out a sputtering sound for a moment. “You forcibly remove a son from his father's custody over such a light offense-!”  
“My decision is final,” Lord Silorn said gravely. “You can be sure that I have given this matter my sincerest consideration. I am not unmindful of your cares as a parent, as I am a father myself. But as a father, it is our duty to not only guide and shape our progeny to respectable adulthood, but to also ensure that they do not bring harm to others. In this case, the only way to be sure of the latter is to keep him in chains. This is not the only crime your son has tried to commit, and as Lord of Goldenvale, and West Yngis, it is also my duty to make sure my citizens are safe, and I do not believe they are with your son running around free.”  
Mother let out a quiet whimper. Robb stared ahead silently, his hands folded against one another. Jasin knew better than to try to torment his older sibling, but Annellie knew that Robb still found Jasin icky, even though he wouldn't come out and say it.  
The pink on the back of Father’s head and neck now bordered on red as the guard that had stood next to Jasin placed his hand on the boy's arm to lead him away.  
“You may visit him at a later time, when he has earned time with his family from service for the greater good. You may say farewell now,” Lord Silorn said.  
Mother rose and went t her son, cupping his face.  
“The Father tests us with various trails. Endure and learn from them, and you will be rewarded,” she said, trying to reassure him. He stared at her with a blank expression. She hesitated. “I am your mother, and I will give what mercies I can.” She kissed his forehead. Robb rose to his feet.  
“I am sorry this happened. May the Father light your way and bring you back to us.” Filial words for a brother, but Annellie heard no real emotion in his tone.  
Father glanced at her expectantly. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet and approached her family. She glanced up at Jasin. She knew she should offer him kind words, even a simple 'I will miss you! I'll visit as soon as I can!' but she was unable to force these words from her throat. The Holy Book also said it was a sin to lie, and she wouldn't lie.  
“Bye,” was all she was able to utter.  
“Annellie!” Mother gasped. Father frowned at her.  
“I'm not going to say what you want. It's bad to lie. The Heavenly Father says that no falsehood should ever slip from a woman's tongue.” As young as she was, her father's faith ensured that she knew at least several scriptural passages.  
Her words carried through the chamber, and she heard a snort from somebody – Lord Silorn or Mayor Prine, likely – as she saw her father's eye twitch.  
“Honesty is as much a valued quality to a Yngsian, or Atyamainese, as it is to a Coronan.” she heard Lord Silorn say. She peered around her father's cape at the Lord, who was looking at her calmly. He beckoned her forward, and she took several shy steps, looking down at the floor as she folded her hands in front of her.  
“Never eschew that virtue, young mesdame,” Lord Silorn lectured. “Let honesty be one of the principles that guide you through your life, and you will be blessed for it.”  
Blushing at that, she mad her best effort at a curtsey. She wobbled a bit, but Lord Silorn did not disparage her, and smiled at her before he dismissed the family as Jasin was taken away.

o0o

Mother was allergic to cats, so cats had not been allowed into the Palace, and were only tolerated in the kitchens and stables, where they were a necessity for keeping vermin under control. She also went into dreadful sneezing fits when people approached her after having played with cats, so the children had been forbidden from keeping pets. Having a cat had turned out to be a greater delight than she had anticipated.  
As Sialen stretched out in bed, the cat jumped on it, crawling towards her. She'd tried making a comfortable place for it to sleep in the chair in the corner, but the black feline insisted on sharing her bed, meowing piteously when she would carry him over to the chair before he followed her back.  
It hadn't taken long to get used to the purring, or the way he would knead her arm or breast as he settled against her shoulder or chest. Sometimes he would deign to allow Rebecca or Kuoji to pet him, but it was clear that the kitten had bonded with her. She'd listened to name suggestions, and recalled names from various stories and tales, but for whatever reason, his name had not made itself clear to her yet.  
“Hello there, handsome,” she cooed as she rubbed him under the chin. Though he was still a bit scrawny, Lord Prine claimed that from looking at it, he was certain the kitten would grow to a large, strong fellow. He certainly was happy enough to eat the bits of fish and chicken that was offered to him as well as goats' milk. He draped his head along her arm and looked up at her, purring contentedly.


	16. XVI

Moonshadows

XVI

o0o

Mikhal retreated from the Mayor's House, the white and silvery-blue hood pulled over his head as protection against the cold. The late afternoon sun offered scant warmth under the thin layer of clouds, and his steps were quick over the brick as he scurried down to Khristoph Smyt's house. Jasin's father would not be pleased with the outcome of the priest's meeting with Lord Prine, but under these circumstances, it could have been a lot worse. He would never forget the sight of Gerard Mahtin as he walked up the platform to meet his fate, and the bleakness that overcame him when Lord Silorn decided his future.  
Next to that, what awaited Jasin seemed almost to be a slap on the wrist. For his penance, he would be moved to a larger cell and kept there to spin wool and knit. One of the Ways of the Light was charity, and so Jasin would practice charity by knitting hats, scarves, and mittens, to be distributed to the poor. Mikhail would have weekly meetings with him.  
Considering how the Yngsians had reacted to Gerard Mahtin's fate, Mikhail had fared pretty well. When the Yngsian and Atyamainese army attacked Goldenvale from opposite sides of the city and forcibly entered the church, he had decided to commit himself to the Heavenly Father and sunk to his knees, praying before the altar even as he felt the solders approach him.  
Then he heard a voice speak to him in Yngsian-accented Coronan, “Do you give yourself up in peace?”  
Mikhail would never forget these moments for so long as he lived. “I do, sit. I ask only for a quick death.”  
“There is no need to fear us, Sacred Father. We offer peace to those who would offer it to us.”  
Mikhail slowly rose to his feet and turned to see his guests. There were about twenty of them, mostly Yngsian but with several Atyamainese. All of them regarded him in silence but for one that stood in front of the others. He had dark blond hair and a light tan. Aside from his armor, he was indistinguishable from a Coronan.  
“Bless you, my son,” he said as he regarded the soldier. The younger man smiled back at him.  
The Yngsians had been true to their word. Though the Church had been stripped of its treasures and trimmings, and turned into a headquarters for the soldiers, Mikhal had been allowed to take all of his belongings, and given twenty-five bronze stars and five silver moons – a generous sum to someone in his position – and cast from those hallowed grounds. He'd lived in that church for nearly a quarter of a century, and was now homeless, but with more than he'd dared to hope for.  
He had not been the only one to surrender, and found a home with one family. He helped the father with chores, and gave spiritual counseling to them as well as other Coronans who visited. There was no longer a church, so meetings were held in alternating homes. He had food in his belly, a roof over his head, and souls to bestow comfort and counsel.  
The Mother is merciful, he mused. The people on the street either gave him respectful nods or casual silence. Lifting his fist, he knocked on the door of the Smyt house, and was given quick admission.  
“Sit, sit, Khristoph Smyt beckoned, offering him a seat near the fireplace. His wife bustled about.  
“Holy Father, will you have some coffee? Will you stay for sup?” she asked.  
“The Mother's hospitality is as welcome as the Father's guidance.” He lowered his hood as he sat down in the wooden chair, leaning against the back of it. Around him was a picture of comfortable domesticity. The fire danced cheerfully, heating an iron pot that hung near it, and Mesdame Smyt lifted a kettle from a grill that sat under the mantle. She used a quilted pot-holder and set the kettle on the table, opening the lid for a moment to tug at the coffee-ball, making sure the water was well-steeped.  
There was no tablecloth, but the wooden surface was clean and well-sanded, and there was a lamp on it, although at the moment it was unlit. She bustled about pouring the coffee into mugs.  
“Will you be having cream or sugar?” she asked. Mikhal smiled faintly as he pondered his choices. “A bit of cream if you please, mesdame.” The fact that the Smyts had coffee and sugar was a sign of the stability of the times. Yes, there were still suffering poor, but Lord Silorn was showing more mercy to the Coronans than Gerard Mahtin had done for the Yngsians. Coffee, rice, sugar, and dried fruit among other things not easily grown in this harsher northern clime had been scarce for several months, but over the last month or so, the markets had become better-stocked as the Yngsians and Atyamainese re-established trade routes through Thend. Mikhal thought of the money he'd been given by the Yngsian soldiers. One bronze star could buy a kilogram of sugar, or several of rice or coarse flour. A silver moon could feed a family of four for a month if they were frugal with it. So far he had spent but three bronze stars, and that was for paper and ink. Even after that, it was more money than he'd possessed in his entire life.  
The mug was brought to him, and he held it under his face, savoring the sharp, earthy smell of this popular Coronan beverage. The scent was a part of his childhood. He recalled waking in the mornings to the scent of the ground beans as his mother prepared the hot drink for her husband and older sons before they went out to work. It had been served in the monastery and church, a popular drink among the Father's servants before and during breaks in their duties. The beans were said to have been blessed by the Heavenly Father himself. The energy he drink brought was tempered by the earthy, bitter taste, which was said to remind men that strength was not brought about by sweetness.  
Mikhail did not add sugar to his coffee, although this was simply because he had never had much of a sweet tooth to begin with. What did the Heavenly Father think of those who augmented their coffee to mellow out the harsh taste? Surely He had more important things to worry about, like the fact that his people and country had been conquered by people who worshiped the Dark Sister.  
After the men were served, Mesdame retreated to the kitchen, leaving the men alone.  
After several sips and a bit of small talk about the weather, Meser Smyt just about pounced on the topic of their visit.  
“What news of my son?” he demanded, patience barely holding back his bubbling impatience.  
Mikhal looked at the fire for a moment. “It is not what you want to hear. Lord Prine is determined that Jasin remains in his custody. I will be able to see him once a week, and privileges may be earned on good behavior – and good service.”  
“What kind of service?”  
Mikhail took a slow breath before he spoke. “Spinning and knitting.”  
Khristoph clenched his jaw for a moment, and the priest saw his cheek tense. His thick fingers curled against the hem of his knee-length jerkin. “Knitting, you said? And...spinning? This… women's work, this humiliation, is what these damn Yngsians consider spiritual growth?” he demanded. Like so many Coronan men, he had a firm notion of the kind of work that was appropriate for either sex, and the spheres that were proper for men or women to move through.  
“The Holy Book tells us to be charitable to the less fortunate. The knitting will be donated to the poor to help keep them warm, and you and I are no strangers to how cold it can be in these parts.” Lord Silorn had proven hos knowledge of the Holy Book, but then, the Way of the Light had been forced upon the Yngsians by the priests that Gerard Mahtin had brought with him. Mikhal could not see any real flaw in Lord Silorn's reasoning, aside it being women's work. The Holy Book had certain views of that, as well, but then, the Book also said that idle hands gave the Dark Sister a vehicle for mischief. In Mikhal's humble opinion, Jasin was better off having his hands occupied with charitable work, whatever anyone might think of the nature of said work.  
“Be grateful that your son is being allowed to atone for his sins with his body intact,” Mikhal cautioned as he saw Meser Smyt clench his jaw again. He'd seen what remained of Gerard Mahtin and… well, after all the things he'd heard about the former Governor-General, he could at least understand the anger of the Yngsians, even if he did not agree with the punishment.  
“Damn Yngsians!” Khristoph exclaimed quietly.  
“I would not be so quick to condemn people who could have been a lot crueler to us. Look at us. Yes, there were shortages for a few months, but look around you. You still have your home. Your family is safe, even one that they hold prisoner. Your belly is full, your clothes are warm. The Heavenly Father has rewarded your faith, and mine. The Holy Book speaks of hard times, but let us be honest. It could be a lot worse.”  
“Rebekah...”  
At that, Mikhal's lips settled in a faint grimace. Yes, he had expected this to be brought up at some point but… well, best to get it over with.  
“Yes, Rebekah. Your daughter chose to flee because she feared the worst from the Yngsians and the Atyamainese… as she had been taught.” Mikhal took a sip of his coffee. The nineteen-year-old girl, Khristoph's eldest daughter, had run away from home when the city was about to be invaded. She had not yet been returned, and the family had to accept the possibility that she was dead. Perhaps from illness, or some unfortunate accident or injury. Unlike what so many Coronans had expected, the Yngsians and Atyamainese were not looters, plunderers, or rapers, and yes, there had been a few incidents, but his own treatment gave Mikhal ample reason to look at his new superiors with an open mind and accepting heart. Khrisdtoph on the other hand… Well. He would add Rebekah to his prayers and hope that she was safe and at least content wherever she was.  
“She made her choice, as you did yours. You see her act as cowardly, but not all of us are so brave.” Many other Coronans had fled, and Mikhail was in no position to judge them either, unless they had abandoned someone who depended on them, as was the case of several children whose parents had fled.  
In a society where a woman's virtue was so highly prized, one of the greatest things a Coronan woman feared was sexual assault. The Holy Book defined many things in black and white, but over the years, Mikhal had come to understand and sympathize with many of the traits that the Holy Book condemned as sin. A young woman was frightened, and fled a situation she was certain might be dangerous. Seen that way, Mikhal could not condemn the young woman like her father did.  
“Your son made a decision, and the best thing for him to do is accept the consequences. Your daughter as well. I know that you guide your family along the Way of the Light – just as any good parent does, but children do not remain as such. We all learn from the choices we make.”  
He could see that the master of the house had something he wanted to say. He patiently took another sip, and Khristoph took a gulp of his own.  
Mikhal had read the Holy Book several times, and many parts of it dozens of times. Over the years, through studies, observations, and experiences, he questioned certain aspects of the Way of the Light. Yet to speak these opinions was considered blasphemy, so he'd held this knowledge close to his heart.  
Now he wondered if after this war, he would have a chance to share these observations, and offer a new way of looking at the Way of the Light. The Holy Book also was the foundation for much of Coronan laws and mores, some of which he had seen were detrimental to many individuals through what Mikhal felt were unearned punishments.  
Perhaps the Yngsian soldier had spared him for a reason. The thought gave him a renewed sense of purpose. He'd entered the holy order as a teenage boy, the fifth son of a peasant farmer, and his wife who was not only fertile but was relatively unscathed by infant mortality. This granted him very little in life after being their eighth child, and he'd merely been another mouth to feed. The priesthood was a common vocation for surplus sons. He was fed, clothed, and educated, all paid for by tithes. He was in his sixties now and without a church or monastery, but as he had already proved – and was still proving – he still had much use to the community.  
“The Heavenly Father speaks to us, but it is up to each of us to listen. As head of the family, one of your first concerns s your own well-being. Your son spoke of fatherhood. Be a good example. Continue to protect and guide the children you have here, and open your ears to listen to those who have parted from you. Patience is a virtue, but then I know this is a virtuous household,” Mikhal said. “Make this a home where daughters would feel safe and welcome. Be the kind of father that a son would be proud to emulate. You have other children as well, and a wife who looks to you.”  
“I do, Father,” Khristoph admitted begrudgingly.  
“Being a father is a sacred role, whatever capacity it is served in. I am here simply to advise you, and help you stay on the Path. You have your own role, to serve as a stalwart example of the goodness of this Path.” He clasped his hands together, and Khristoph mirrored his gesture as they bowed their heads.  
“Let out steps never stray from the Way of the Light. May our hearts remain filled with Light. Amen.”  
“Amen.” Khristoph lifted his head. After a few moments of silence and finishing off his coffee, he looked at the priest.  
“Will you be staying with us for sup?” he asked. Mikhal pandered only a moment as he took note of a thick, savory scent wafting through the room. His stomach rumbled gently but firmly, reminding him of the fact that he had but an apple and some water at his last meal.  
The spirit was foremost in the parts of the self a follower of the Light ministered to, but Mikhal was a practical man, and the flesh had needs too. So many spoke of needs of the flesh strictly in the carnal sense, but he had long believed that fulfilling at least a basic level of comfort for the body was conductive to mental health. Unconsciously, he recognized one of man – and animal's – most primal needs – a full belly.  
“I am honored by your hospitality.”

o0o

Lady Rebecca Prine smiled in the direction of Elizabeth Smyt and her daughter, Annellie. She heard the gentle splash as coffee was poured into cups for herself and Mesdame Smyt, while Annellie was given tea. The Smyts particularly interested her, and she thought that Annellie could benefit from her patronage.  
As she knew all too well, Coronan women were given a limited formal education, their knowledge of numbers and letters intended to help them manage the household accounts and to be helpmeets to their husbands or other male relatives. The amount of books – aside from the Holy Book – that were endorsed to Coronan women were scant, and she hoped to afford Annellie more opportunity, should the girl be interested.  
Rebecca had always loved books. She found mystery and magic in the pages and consumed anything she could read. Literature, history, physical science, magical science – interesting to her even though she had no touch of magic – and folklore, expanded her consciousness, giving her new ideas with which to form her morals and beliefs. She'd never liked children and acknowledged from an early age that she had no maternal instinct. The idea of pregnancy, much less the ordeals of the child-bed – terrified her, and in a family with two other daughters who were eager to be wives and mothers, Rebecca's father did not try too hard to find her a husband.  
She was a much better teacher than a maternal figure, and became governess to several of her younger relatives. In due time, several nobles had started sending her their daughters. She enjoyed challenging her students, encouraging them to the fields of study they best excelled in, but also pushing them to not simply ignore subjects they were weak in.  
Then the Lords of Yngis had made an alliance with Atyamai, and in his rage, old King Solan massed his armies. The attack had been swift and brutal, and given their peace with Yngis, the Atyamainese had much of their military strength in other lands. Yngis was only about a third of the size of Corona, so despite an intense struggle, the conquerors were victorious.  
The Coronans called their religion the Way of the Light, but it had brought darkness to Yngis. In her own case, it had been literal. The last thing she had seen was her older brother with Mahtin's sword through his chest before the Governor-General's executioner had taken the blade to her eyes.  
Stunned with grief, the rest of House Prine had offered no resistance – at least outwardly. Mahtin's systemic cruelty had ensured not only his downfall, but Corona's own. Her nephew was now the Lord of House Prine, but her brother and herself were now lords in their own right here in Goldenvale, under Lord Silorn. She'd been governess before, and now it was up to her to establish an educational system here that, should it prove successful, would be mirrored in other parts of the country.  
“I have brought you here to extend a formal invitation to Annellie to go to school next year. She will be seven, if I am correct.”  
“She receives more than enough education at home! I am teaching her her letters and numbers, along with the other things that a Coronan girl needs to learn.”  
Rebecca smiled patiently. “If you will be so kind as to recall, this is not Corona anymore. You signed the Charter as your husband did.” This in itself was unique. In Coronan society, a man's signature covered his household, including his wife. However, when presenting the Charter to what remained of the Coronans, he had required that every person above the age of twenty-one – regardless of sex – sign the agreement that would grant them citizenship and legal status in the new province of Golden Yngis – named as such for its designated capitol, Goldenvale, as well as a nod to the Coronans who still lived here.  
“Yes, but I am still Annellie's mother, and the Charter states that children are to remain under the legal protection of their parents or guardians until the age of majority.” In this, Coronans and Yngsians were not very different. The number seven, so revered in the Way of the Light, also held significance in Yngis, and was used to determine the stages of one's life. From birth to their seventh birthday, a person was considered a 'young child'. From seven to fourteen, they became 'older' children, and were given more duties and responsibilities, helping around the house, family business, or farm. Fourteen to twenty-one designated a person as a 'young man or woman' – not legally an adult, but on the way to becoming one, with even more duties and responsibilities to prepare them for that role. Young men and women were also tested by being allowed to make their own decisions to varying degrees. At twenty-one, a person was considered legally an adult, able to act and operate under their own volition – and held entirely accountable for their choices.  
In a certain way, the age of majority actually benefited Coronan citizens, for a woman was not considered fully ready to become a wife or mother until she had reached majority, unlike in other cultures where girls might be married off in their teens or even as soon as they menstruated for the first time. Betrothal arrangements might be initiated when a Coronan woman was in her teens, and occasionally, a Coronan might marry at eighteen or nineteen, but Corona and Yngis enjoyed a relatively low mother and infant mortality rate. This was supported by old medical records, where physicians in times almost forgotten reported a high number of younger teenaged girls suffering or dying from complications of pregnancy or labor.  
Such records were reinforced by modern-day cases of young teenage girls who became pregnant one way or another. For the misogynistic attitudes held by many Coronan men, a healthy and strong female held significantly more value than a damaged or dead one, and it was said that the Heavenly Father would forever damn a man who impregnated a woman who had not yet performed the womanhood rites in front of the Mother in church when she came of age.  
Thank the Heavenly Father for small favors, Rebecca mused sarcastically.  
“That is correct, but did you read the Charter in its entirety?” Copies of the Charter had been circulated through Goldenvale and other parts of Golden Yngis so that Coronans had time to peruse the document before they reported to the local magistrates to affix their names to the register.  
The silence that Elizabeth offered was her answer, and Rebecca sighed. “Hannah, will you please lay out the Charter on this table, and point out to Mesdame Smyt the subsection on page three regarding Yngsian law and the Coronan religion?”  
“Yes, my lady.” Rebecca heard the swish of Hannah's skirt and her soft footsteps before a rustle of paper met her ears.  
“My husband already explained the Charter to me-”  
“Read it,” Rebecca replied firmly as Hannah set the paper on the table and shuffled the pages so that the right one was on top. In her mind's eye, she could see the young woman at the side of the table, her finger at the appropriate section. “Out loud, if you please. As you can see, I am unable to peruse the page for myself,” she added in a sweet tone that held an underlying firmness.  
She heard a quiet sigh as Elizabeth pulled her chair forward. “Citizens are to be afforded peace and privacy in practicing their faith in their homes, but not in a way that is detrimental to any members of that household, or outside of it. In such an instance where a citizen is being harmed, the appropriate authorities are obligated to intervene,” she read in a measured, flat tone. She let out a huff. “This is silly, Annellie is being provided for. Her father does not beat her. She is being taught all the skills she needs to be a good wife and mother-”  
“It is considered detrimental to deny a child educational opportunities.” Rebecca stated. “As it is also detrimental to determine to limit a woman to the path of wifehood and motherhood-”  
“So says a blind spinster,” Elizabeth spat out. Hannah let out a small gasp. Rebecca folded her hands in her lap and sat back, affixing her face in Elizabeth's direction. Her eyes were fully open, allowing the other woman an unfettered view of what had been done to her. She knew it was not a pleasant sight, and remained silent for several moments.  
“She turned away as soon as you fixed your eyes on her,” Hannah whispered into her ear.  
“You do not find me a pleasant sight, Mesdame Smyt? I was blinded for my love of books, and my refusal to limit myself to what Corona considered proper for a woman,” Rebecca stated in a low, measured tone that would have given even an idiotically happy half-wit pause.  
“Mummy, tell her you're sorry. That was a mean thing to say!” she heard Annellie whisper in a horrified tone. She heard the scuffle of small footsteps and an angry hiss from Elizabeth to come back to her side, before Annellie's hand lightly touched her own. Rebecca reached out, groping the air a bit before she found the top of Annellie's head, feeling starched linen under her palm.  
“I would love to go to your school, Lady Rebecca. What sorts of things will you teach?” And I am really sorry about what my mummy said.”  
“There is no need to apologize for deeds you had no part of, child. The education I intend to offer will be as good as any boy gets, and more.” Her hand slid down to cup Annellie's cheek, feeling several wisps of downy hair along the edges of the cap.  
Rebecca turned her face back to Elizabeth. “What you said was extremely cruel, and under these circumstances, I am sure my brother would agree with me that having your tongue cut out would prevent you from further cruelty.” She felt Annellie stiffen, and Elizabeth inhaled sharply. She allowed silence to longer in the air for a moment before she continued.  
“However, I am not Gerard Mahtin. Nor was I attempting to imply that wifehood and motherhood are poor ways for a woman to live. Many women find sincere happiness and contentment in these roles, and society will always have need of such women. My point is that not every woman has such inclinations, and to force them into these roles is detrimental to their well-being. I've never liked babies, to be frank. I think they're disgusting, and I prefer to keep as much distance between myself and them as possible. I would be a very poor mother, and I am a greater asset to society teaching the children of others instead of producing my own. And all that screaming and mess of the child-bed? I would rather take up a sword against a legion of soldiers, sighted or not, thank you.”  
She waved her hand in the direction of the table, where the Charter sat. “I had a hand in drafting that, did you know? I am helping children… in the way that best suits my own capabilities. Yes, children need to be fed, and kept warm, and nursed when they are ill, but their minds need as much care as their bodies. As a mother, would you say that you love your children?”  
“… Of course.” To her satisfaction, Elizabeth sounded a bit shaken.  
“Then, wouldn't you want to see Annellie happy, and making use of her skills in a way that benefits her, her family, and society? If she ends up deciding she wants a husband or a family, then I will not stand in the way of her choice. Just as you should not try to prevent her from choosing to become, say, a teacher, or a merchant, or an artist.”  
“My husband would never allow it-”  
“He signed the Charter as you did. If he knows what is good for him...” Rebecca let the warning hang in the air, not wishing to elaborate in front of the child.  
“The Kingdom of Corona is no more. Its laws are history. Women are no longer to suffer, or to be constrained in their choices simply because of what is between their legs,” Rebecca continued with finality. She gestured to her scarred eyes. “Despite what happened to me, I am pleased for what I have done, to help other girls and women, and I am determined to continue my good work. If your husband has a problem with it, he is free to request a meeting with me, but be warned that I will be even less tolerant of any rudeness he chooses to direct towards me than I was of yours.”  
Her hand went back down to rest on top of Annellie's as she directed her next words at the young girl. “If you want to come to my school when it is ready to begin, then you are more than welcome. You will learn many things, and given the chance to utilize what you have learned in the best way possible.” She removed her hands from Annellie and gestured for her to go back to her mother.  
“I want to go to school!” Annellie said firmly to her mother. In Coronan society, going to school was for boys, with girls receiving an education at home from their mothers or other older women. “Robb and Jasin went!”  
Rebecca heard a defeated sigh from Mesdame Smyt, but the Coronan woman was not so quick to surrender. “I need your help around the house. Robb and Jasin help Father with his business, and I would like your help with mine.”  
“They went to school and still had chores,” Annellie replied stubbornly. “All the baby does is cry and drool, anyway and he never stops! I agree with Lady Prine, babies are disgusting!”  
“Let us talk when we get home, hmm?” Elizabeth asked, obviously wanting to continue the discussion in a venue where Rebecca could not interject.  
“When we get home, I'm going to have to mind the baby again and wipe his face and bum when I'd rather be reading or gardening,” Annellie whined, determined to have her way when she had access to a sympathetic ear. Smart girl, Rebecca mused, even if her mother might not see it that way.  
Older siblings minding younger ones was nearly universal, and some parents used this opportunity to shrug off some of the responsibility they should be bearing for their progeny. It was true that taking care of children and keeping a home in order was not an easy task, but too many times, older siblings bore responsibilities they were not ready for.  
“I said we can discuss this when we get home-” Annellie's mother started.  
“I am well aware that being a mother is not an easy pursuit, but you and your husband chose to have children, not Annellie,” Rebecca stated firmly. “I did my share of minding younger siblings as well as cousins, but at least my parents had the good grace to not expect me to be a substitute mother to them!” If Mesdame Smyt had apologized for her cruel remark, Rebecca might have been more gentle in her words. “If you're unable to take care of your own damn children, I suggest you stop making them!” she snapped. A muffled snort from Hannah met her ears before disappearing into Elizabeth's stunned silence.

o0o

A light snow was falling as Empress Hauane walked along the veranda, her light boots making a soft padding sound on the smooth beams of wood that bordered many of the buildings in the Palace complex.  
The Mother Islands were not known for gentle winters, and prudence dictated that houses be built with verandas, or at the very least planks on silts that could be quickly erected during the fall and taken down in the spring. Oak and pine was plentiful here, and the rooftops that extended all the way over the verandas gave the Palace occupants protection against the rain, and most of the time, snow.  
Half a meter below the walkway were some of the gardens, bare of most greenage. The Mother Islands certainly had taken her a bit getting used after spending her childhood in Green Yngis, the warmest and most southernmost of the original three provinces. To the east was Blue Yngis, named as such for its shorelines and majority of the Yngsian islands in its possession. And to the north was White Yngis, for the color that was so prevalent in winter and often the months leading up to and from it. These three provinces had been ruled by the Lords of Yngis, her own uncle having been the Lord Paramount of Green Yngis.  
Now there was Golden Yngis, and since the Empress and Crown Prince of the Atyamai Empire were of Yngsian blood, and of House Silorn, it was a given that Golden Yngis be placed under the headship of the cadet branch of the ancient house. The two other Great Houses had agreed to this, so to have their own power over White and Blue Yngis restored after Corona's downfall. House Silorn had been gracious though, and carved out territories along the north and east of the former Coronan land to grant to the reinstated Lords Paramount to ensure continued goodwill.  
It was something that was drilled into the minds of the heirs of the Great Houses during their childhoods. The governorship of Yngis was unique from most other known civilizations, and to avoid conflict, the three families frequently intermarried as well as did their best to maintain an even balance of power between the three Lords Paramount. There had been conflicts in the past, yes, but none so severe as to devastate the bond between the three noble families and the peace of their people. There had been civil wars before and during the Peregrination, and the Lords were also smart enough to know Corona would pounce upon a Yngis embroiled in civil war like a cat who had come upon two mice fighting over a piece of cheese.  
Now that Corona was no longer a threat, Hauane had to wonder if any of the Lords Paramount, or their heirs, might no longer be so mindful of this as they had once been. Kingdoms rose and fell, regardless of how powerful they had been, or would become, due to the ambitions and weaknesses of men. Sunset followed sunrise with a surety as old as time. Hopefully another sunset would not darken anyone's future for a long while.   
She entered the vestibule that opened into the royal apartments, sliding off her boots as a maid came forward to help her out of her coat.  
“My lady, your esteemed son has sent you many gifts!” Her eyes sparkled, and Hauane smiled faintly. Every couple of months, Kuoji sent her various items from his travels, some of them exotic and rare, some of them less so – at least in other lands.  
She knelt before the trunks that had been laid out in a row for her in her parlor, and opened the lid of the first one. Silks of various colors met her eyes, and the designs on them were distinctly Yngsian. There were also several books, as well as food items that could not be grown in the harsher clime of the Islands. She took a deep breath as she hugged a bag of coffee to her chest, inhaling the earthy aroma of the roasted beans.  
Green Yngis had a near-perfect clime for growing these beans, but all attempts to grow them here had failed, so coffee remained one of the more valued commodities in the Islands – at least for those here who actually liked coffee. Growing sugarcane was met with extremely limited success on the southernmost of the Islands, so that was another commodity – although one much more appreciated by the locals than coffee.  
She lifted out jars of fruit preserves, stewed in sweet syrup of their own juices mixed with various spices. There were also gifts for Aildane, and the other princes and princesses, and Hauane did not doubt that Emperor had received his own tribute.  
She inhaled the coffee again, becoming lost in its pungent scent as her mind sunk back into warmer days.  
Ilde Silorn, daughter of Kerdi Silorn, younger sister of the Lord Paramount of House Silorn, had the future before her. She was attractive and healthy, and known for her sweet disposition and gift with the needle. There was no reason to not believe that she would have a good match, even the heir of the Lord Paramount of White Yngis had sent her a betrothal proposal.  
Ilde hadn't decided whether or not to pursue the proposals when the Lords Paramount had made a decision that would forever alter Yngsian history.  
For the most part, Yngis had been at peace with Atyamai, and the Lords decided to cement this with a formal alliance. A delegation was sent from the Imperial Court of the Atyamai Empire, and Ilde had gone with her mother and uncle to welcome the Atyamainese to their lands in the Capitol of Blue Yngis. Unlike so many others who found Ilde's mild personality to be charming, Kerdi was not satisfied with her. A woman who could have been Lord Paramount if opportunity had afforded it, Lady Silorn was known as a shrewd no-nonsense woman, and had dragged Ilde along to take her from the comforts of home and thrust her into a new experience in an attempt to 'toughen her up'.  
The only good thing about this trip was the fact that she had lain eyes upon Jejeon, the second son of Emperor Luimonje of Atyamai, and his uncle, the Emperor's younger brother. When the Prince stared at her with his dark eyes, she felt a warmth inside that none of her previous suitors had never been able to inspire.  
It was one of the few times she'd stood up to her mother. Kerdi wanted her to accept the suit of the would-be groom from White Yngis, but Ilde had been resolute, and Imonje's desire matched her own. They found time to sneak off and consummate their passion, sealing their bond – more than once. And how skillfully he had pleased her, not simply having his own pleasure of her, but teaching her about her own body and what she enjoyed, and what they could enjoy together. Even now, Empress Hauane's body sang at her husband's touch, over twenty years later.  
Despite Kerdi's rage at her daughter's new-found backbone, Lord Silorn had been happy to bless the union between House Silorn and House Tekura, making Ilde the Prince's consort.  
Where Ilde's softness had clashed with her mother's hardheadedness, Jejeon's strength bolstered her own, giving her refuge. He was a skilled swordsman and archer, and without a weapon, proved that his own body could be just as good as a blade. But behind closed doors, he submitted to her gentle touch and soft words, revealing a side that very few saw of the taciturn Atyamainese prince. For her, he played songs on the pipilut he brought with her, and wrote her sweet poems praising her beauty and excellence of character, and his own deep love of her.  
She knew she faced a future in a strange land, but a deep instinct told her that she had found her soul mate. The man who would father her son and eventually become Emperor Imonje had remained true to her during the years he'd believed her dead, refusing to name one of his concubines as Empress.  
For all Kerdi's displeasure at her daughter's disobedience, the older woman had not been the one to tear the pair asunder for a decade. As Hauane had come to see, there could be evil where one might think there was only good, or the other way around.  
She returned most of her gifts to their trunks, setting aside a jar of peaches that had been flavored with cinnamon, cloves, and orange peel. She would share it with her husband tonight.

o0o

Hrotrud chuckled, almost spitting out her coffee, as she listened to Lady Prine recall her encounter with Mesdame Smyt and her daughter. For twenty years, the Yngsians had suffered under the tyranny of King Helin and Governor-General Mahtin. Many Yngsians had become adept at playing the part of good Yngsians who had submitted to the Way of the Light, Hrotrud among them. Every seventh day, she attended church services, and observed all the bullshit rites and tedious festivals that the priests tacked to the calendar. She'd read the Holy Book, and knew how to recite the proper prayers, and make the proper responses when questioned by priests or magistrates.  
And much as she hated it – oh gods, how she absolutely fucking hated it – she'd taught all this nonsense to her children, dragging them with her to church and making them listen to the priests yammer on. She'd taught them well in the Way of the Light – and was an even better teacher when it came to subverting the Path, whispering to her children that all this was nonsense but necessary for survival, as soon as she deemed them old and intelligent enough to keep the secret.  
They'd make almost a game out of the entire affair. After church meetings, once they were n the safety of their own homes, behind locked doors, they'd discuss the sermons, finding flaws in logic within that or the accompanying scriptures from the Holy Book. And always, always, she had warned them to keep these discussions private. All the priests deserved was mindless blither in return for what they gave, and her children became quite adept at it.  
What a waste of time it had all been, to appear to tread the 'proper path' when she'd rather be doing a thousand other things, even having a tooth pulled or lancing a boil on someone else's bum. And how bloody splendid it was having all this free time!  
“It feels like I can breathe,” the old woman sighed happily as she swayed back and forth in the rocking chair that Rebecca had provided for her. “No more smiling and pretending to be happy with what these asses deemed right for us. Pardon my language, my lady.”  
“Oh, no need. Unlike what the Heavenly Father says, my ears, and sensibilities are just as good as any man's. I shan't swoon if you say that, or worse.” Rebecca's hand slid across the table to reach for one of the pastries that had been brought in for them on a silver platter.  
Though Hrotrud had no noble blood – as far as she knew, at least – her position within the House of Silorn had provided her with certain privileges, including some access to the Mayor's House and the lady that lived within, especially as she was considering Obern's second daughter, Fiametta, for Lady Prine's school. Unlike her older sister, who was more outgoing and gregarious, Fiametta was a more introspective person who preferred the company of her sketchbooks and paints. Lady Prine would round that out with some maths and history among other things.  
The women conversed for a while before Hrotrud rose from her seat, her joints creaking a bit.  
“It is getting dark, and these old bones complain mightily against the cold,” the older woman said lightly. Lady Prine sighed and flexed her own fingers with a soft sigh, a small crack meeting Hrotrud's ears.  
“Indeed. At least I have others to write for me. Well, safe travels, and give everyone at home my warmest regards.”  
“Will do, my lady.” With that, Hrotrud gathered up her satchel, pulled on her cloak, hood, scarf, and mittens, and lingered by the fireplace for a minute, letting the heat soak into the wool that hugged her hands. Tucking the now-warmed mitts against her sides under her cloak, she retreated down the hall, stepping outside to feel the bite of a brisk wind against her cheeks. Swearing softly to herself, she pulled the scarf up past her nose before trekking down the courtyard and out onto the street.  
She paused as she heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see a priest, his pale robes easily identifiable amidst the snow that was dusting over everything. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but said or did nothing, returning to her path.  
“Hello! Mesdame!” she heard him call after her.  
Bloody hell, she thought as she turned around. “I'm Yngsian, and have no need for you, priest.”  
“You are the one who is teaching Jasin Smyt how to knit, aren't you?” the priest asked.  
“What of it?” Hrotrud snapped. She had been reluctant to spend any time with that horrid boy, but a silver-filled purse from Lord Silorn had helped to sway her. He remained behind bars, otherwise she was almost certain the boy would have tried to stab her with the wooden knitting needles he'd been given, even though the tips had been sanded down to soft, rounded points.  
Not being one to bear someone's abuses with graciousness unless absolutely necessary, Hrotrud had been quick to lay into the boy, gratified when she saw a glimmer of fright in his eyes. She had Lord Silorn's ear, she warned him, and if he did not want to use his eyes or fingers for charitable work, then he wouldn't have them at all.  
She normally would have been loath to use threats on a youth, but Jasin had exhibited more than the typical Coronan male attitude towards traditionally female pursuits. And she also suspected that Lord Silorn chose her for the job, given her tough attitude. She knew a few women who would have rushed off after several minutes with Jasin… not that she would have blamed them.  
“I was wondering if we could talk, mesdame… Hrotrud, was it? Or is it Mesdame Silorn?” he asked kindly As he approached, there was still enough of the afternoon light to make out a healthy-looking man in his sixties, the hood of his robe pulled up against the cold.  
“Mesdame Rivers will do, thank you,” she replied curtly. “Be quick about it, as I have things to do, and have listened to enough priests to last me a lifetime.”  
“I do not offer criticism, Mesdame Rivers, or any attempts to make you walk the Way of the Light.”  
“Well thank you, kind meser,” Hrotrud stated with thinly-veiled sarcasm, making no use of any of the proper titles a citizen would use towards a priest. “Now, have out with it.”  
“Both of us have been tasked with Jasin Smyt's spiritual well-being, and I felt that it would be prudent for the two of us to have a working relationship, at the very least. From the sounds of it, the Way of the Light was very unpleasant for you-”  
“That is an absolute fucking understatement, and you know it. Don't be a stupid ass.”  
The priest blinked at her words, and she smirked coldly at him behind her scarf. “For many years, you got to scold women over the most stupid things. I will be having none of that, you hear?”  
He swallowed. “Yes, Mesdame Rivers. I do not deign to tell you how to live your own life. My only interest in you is the work we are doing with the boy.”  
“You have quite a bit of work ahead of you, priest.”  
“My name is Mikhal, mesdame.”  
“I will not be calling you Father Mikhal, you know.”  
“That is fine with me. Just Mikhal will do.”  
His continuing placidity in face of her jabs annoyed her. Here was a chance to butt heads with a priest without fearing reprisals for her and her family, and he was taking all the damned fun out of it!  
“Your Heavenly Father did a shitty job with that boy, you know. The Holy Book says that the Father made man in his image, with all his best qualities. He obviously forgot something in this instance.”  
“Yes. There is a darkness in his heart-”  
“Don't go about blaming the Dark Sister for this. Jasin made his decision, just as everyone else does in their lives. Like Helin, like Mahtin, like you-”  
“Me?” Mikhal asked in surprise. “What did I do?”  
“You entered the priesthood, that's what.” She lifted her chin, punctuating her point. The wind blew more sharply, and she shivered. Before she could make a comment about needing to be on her way, Mikhal came to her side.  
“I do not blame the Dark Sister. I find her an easy scapegoat used by men to hide from their own personal failings,” he commented, stepping ahead of her. She blinked and went after him, falling in step with him. “All too often, the monsters that men speak of are merely an extension of the evil inside of them.”  
“Did you ever mention that to the other priests? Or the Highfathers?”  
“No. What I just said would have been considered blasphemy.” He turned his head to her, smiling faintly. “I for one, embrace personal responsibility, and I hope to inculcate Jasin with at least some semblance of it. It seems that you are a person who believes the same as I do, at least in that aspect. Perhaps we could find a wider common ground?”  
Hrotrud was silent as they took several steps along the sidewalk, passing homes and businesses.  
“As for me entering the priesthood… well, you know how difficult it was for women under Coronan law, but that does not mean that all men had it so easy. It was the priesthood, or being ground under the heel of my older brothers.”  
Yes. The institution of the Patermun, the supreme headship of the senior male above all other men, was also something that had been pushed upon the Yngsians, sowing discord between some Yngsian brothers and fathers and sons.  
“If not a Patermun, then a priest, huh?”  
“You are not too far from the truth of the matter. I have made the most of my path, and studied the Holy Book and its history intensely for many years. I know that the Way of the Light is not looked upon too kindly by many here, and I understand why. But I do hope that I can open the Way of the Light for those who wish to follow it, and offer a...” He paused, a thoughtful frown flickering across his face.  
“More enlightened view?” Hrotrud ventured. “No pun intended.”  
He smiled, and Hrotrud was surprised at how it actually made him handsome. His teeth were mostly straight and only slightly yellowed due to age. The corners of his eyes wrinkled in friendliness.  
“You may not have intended that pun, but I think it fits perfectly. The Holy Book does extoll some good things. Charity, honesty, bravery…”  
“Hmm.” Hrotrud pulled her lips in a thoughtful frown.  
“Personally, I have always thought that the Holy Book was too harsh towards women. It is said that the Book came to us by divine inspiration, recorded long before our Peregrinations, but the fact remains that a man put these words to paper. And men are flawed creatures, as you well know.”  
At that, she let out a small laugh, unable to hold it back.

o0o

This chapter was fun for me to write. I wanted to take a break from Sialen and Kuoji, and explore various aspects of Coronan and Yngsian culture and history through the mind and eyes of secondary characters.  
In ancient Rome, paterfamilias was indeed an institution where the man had absolute control over his household, even extending to adult sons, as well as grandchildren, and could choose husbands for his female relatives regardless of how they felt about their would-be groom. The paterfamilias could even sell anyone in his family into slavery or indenture, if he so chose, or throw away an unwanted child. So this inspired the Patermuns in my world.  
The similarity between the names of Lady Prine and the Smyt's eldest daughter is not an accident. Coronans and Yngsians come from the same ancestors, and their language has only a little more difference than what is observed between American and British English, along with unique accents that one would only find in the United States compared to the United Kingdom. Likewise, many names are similar, so while it would take a Coronan or Yngsian some time to get the feel of the other language, it would be relatively easy to gain a casual understanding.  
Reviews/feedback are welcome and appreciated by the author.


	17. XVII

Moonshadows

XVII

o0o

Lady Jacinthe Fiori strode down the hall, her arms wrapped around several books and scrolls. The guards stepped aside and she entered the chamber where the de facto Queen of Corona awaited, reclining behind a desk.  
In the Atyamainese system, Azami was not queen, but in the Coronan way of things, she might as well be, especially among the commoners. The proper title for Azami, or its closest translation in the Coronan tongue, was Governor-General, but that was still a difficult thing for people used to the old system to understand.  
The cases Jacinthe had presided over in the last month provided the bulk of what was in these books. Her secretary's neat handwriting filled the pages, and copies would be made in Atyamainese. Azani picked up one of the books, flipping through it. After Jacinthe set the rest of her books down, Azami's own secretary came forward to take the books away for later.  
Jacinthe liked it here much better than back in the Meadows, where she'd been raised and groomed to be a wife. Her noble blood ensured she could have a good match – after all, her aunts had been married to the King and his younger brother, but Jacinthe found herself dreading the prospect of sharing her bed with a man and spawning a brood of children. Her grandfather had already arranged for a betrothal to the heir of one of Corona's most powerful families, and likewise sought suitable matches for his other grandchildren.  
But then, the end of Coronan rule had also put paid to these dreams. She had no affection for her intended, so she broke the troth and now lived her own life.  
A servant came forth with tea, setting it on the cleared portion of the desk. It was an institution brought over from Atyamai, and Jacinthe had taken a liking to it. The varieties of flavors Azami had in her collection certainly put the Coronan morning cup of coffee to shame. Clove and ginger wafted through the air from the cups after the servant poured it out for them, retreating.  
Jacinthe was relieved that Azami spoke Coronan so well. The young Coronan woman had several talents, but languages was not one of them, and beyond basic phrases, she stumbled over the Atyamainese tongue.  
“You have seen a fair amount of petitioners from the far reaches of the Coronan province,” Azami observed. Jacinthe nodded. For poorer folk, the demands of farming left them little free time during certain phases in the seasonal cycle. And with many sons conscripted – and killed – the need for labor was sharply felt in many strata of society.  
“It has been but nearly half a year. Coronans are still getting used to the new way of things.”  
“Something you sometimes need a firm hand to remind them of.”  
Jacinthe smiled dryly. She'd seen all sorts of women, from elegantly-dressed widows to bare-footed farmer's daughters. But there had also been men, younger sons and brothers who sought to use the new laws against tyrannical parents or elder siblings. It was her job to settle the dispute by Atyamainese law which even now, could still rouse open displays of ire in the courtroom.  
Atyamainese guards were quick to throw such troublemakers into the dungeons, and it was always quite the spectacle, and she also got to meet a lot of new people, and gain unique perspectives from people of varying stations, or those from a different culture. Frankly, it was much more exciting than the cloistered life of a proper Coronan lady.

o0o

Although Sialen welcomed the experiences she had on the road and with the people she met, there was something to be said about the familiarity of a ladies' parlor. It was one shared by Coronan and Yngsian women, and Sialen enjoyed these quiet afternoons near the fireplace with other women, quietly occupied in her own activity, or engaging in lively conversation. At the moment, she was knitting a scarf. It was one of the activities Mother approved of that she'd actually been good at.  
This chamber was long familiar to her, as it was the very same room that Mother would hold her own parlors. The room was slightly sunk into the ground, to lend some coolness to long summer days spent within these confines. The windows were large enough to admit refreshing breezes, but small enough to be effectively shuttered as the days grew shorter.  
The rugs and hangings were of a distinct Yngsian design, but much of the furniture remained the same. Ever practical, in lean times and times of plenty, Hrotrud saw no sense in destroying useful articles around the manor. Laughter filled the room as Hrotrud finished a ribald story, Fiametta and Fiana absent from the room and spared of their grandmother's surprisingly lecherous mind.  
The old woman had been able to play a (mostly) proper woman of the Way of the Light during the Dark Years, but freedom from these social constraints gave way to sharp wit and a frank attitude about sex. Not to mention a tongue that was quick to lash out, as even Gerard Mahtin had been forced to endure after his sentence had been carried out. At least half the women in Mother's parlors would have swooned if they'd spent an hour listening to Hrotrud's blunt opinions and pronouncements.  
In the few weeks Sialen had been here, she had not spent so much time with Kuoji as she had on the road or in Thend. Both of them had plenty to fill their time, and it gave her the space she needed to think about her relationship and future. It was an open secret that she and Kuoji were together. Many Coronans believed that the Prince had taken her by force or she'd willingly become his lover.  
Too much was made of her sexuality, she mused. Part of her wanted to simply toss her virginity at her suitor, just so she didn't need to worry about maintaining it anymore. The Way of the Light ordained that a woman guard it as her greatest treasure for her husband. And the maidenhead of a woman like her would hold great value to certain people.  
Ugh. Why did it have to be so complicated?

o0o

Sialen combed out her hair, running her fingers along the pale strands after the bristles had straightened them. Her ladies-in-waiting had been dismissed for the night, leaving her alone in her mother's old bedroom. The room, cool and airy in summer due to its vaulted ceiling, was cold in the final days before winter. She knew she would eventually warm up under the comforters in her bed, especially with the ceramic foot-warmer left for her, but she was a child of a land known for its long summers and mild winters.  
She startled a bit as she heard a knock. It hadn't come from the main entrance though, and she turned to the other door, the one that connected her room to Kuoji's own.  
“May I come in, my princess?” he asked.  
“Certainly.” She turned to see the Prince enter her room, the light of her candle illuminating the darkness of the plain, comfortable clothing he was clad in. Like her, he was garbed in a Atyamainese-style quilted robe.  
“Was there something you needed?” she asked, pulse quickening with the knowledge that she was alone in her bedroom. With a man. Not her husband. And one of Atyamainese blood. These thoughts came to her in a jumble, reminding her of the Coronan mores she had been raised with.  
“Only the pleasure of your company. I have not had enough of it as of late.”  
The shadows in the room helped to mellow out her blush, the candlelight drawing attention to the pleasing play of light and dark on her face.  
“There has been much work. And much accomplished.” She turned back to the mirror, seeing the reflection of his approach. His hands rested on her shoulders.  
“Indeed. But nothing makes me as happy as time with you.” he leaned down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head. “Come share warmth with me.”  
“… What?” She felt a flurry of emotion start to well up within. Confusion, surprise, arousal...  
“It is a custom started, so it is said, by Nagadiu Toid's clan. They inhabited the northernmost of the Mother Islands, and its clime was so harsh that sharing warmth was seen as a part of life when it came to surviving the winters.”  
“I'm not sure it's that cold here,” Sialen replied with a small chuckle.  
“No. But bed-sharing is a pleasant way to keep winter nights comfortable. Nagadiu brought that custom with her, and we Atyamainese are nothing if not a practical people with useful traditions.”  
“Just to be clear, are you referring to physical intimacy, or…?” If the Atyamainese actually used sex simply for keeping warm… she wasn't sure if she should judge that.  
“That is optional.” Kuoji's tone had an amused lilt to it. “But no, generally it simply means sharing a bed, and pooling together blankets, or shelter, if needed. Soldiers do it. Families. Traveling companions.”  
“Wouldn't that require a certain level of trust?”  
“The Coronan law of hospitality, guest right; that requires a trust between all parties. A sacred agreement that the Heavenly Father would damn you for if you broke. This is not much different. We pool resources with others. Labor. Food. Shelter. Regardless of what it is, a level of trust and cooperation is required for it to benefit all involved.”  
His hand reached up to caress her hair.  
“Warmth is simply another thing to share, and another thing to place trust in.”  
Sharing a bed with him, instead of spending the night alone in a room that did not properly warm despite the well-stocked fireplace… It was hardly an unappealing notion.  
“And as we share the same residence, and share the same meals, now you want us to share this?”  
“I do not relish a cold night alone. And I suspect you have no more like for the idea than I. So I think we would both benefit from such an arrangement, hmm?”  
A night next to Kuoji's warm body? Oh gods, yes, Sialen thought. Hrotrud's ribald stories and jokes fueled her imagination, and knowing that the Prince actually desired her certainly did nothing to fetter said imagination.  
“I think you know me too well, my prince,” she replied, maintaining a calm tone despite her heated pulse. “Although I do wonder why you need my help when I know you have a touch of Fire magic.”  
He squeezed her shoulders, chuckling softly. “Only a touch, as you recall. But even if I were a Fire Master, I'd still prefer your company. And as your paramour, I would be remiss if I did not see to your warmth and comfort.”  
“Well-argued, my prince.”  
He came around to her side, picking up her hand and pressing his lips to it. Neither of them saw the shadow that followed them into his room.  
Sialen had never been in this room in her childhood, and had stepped into it briefly a couple of times – during the day and with others around – while Kuoji was living there. Of a vaulted design identical to her own room, this chamber bore distinctly bolder, more masculine decoration. Several heavy pieces of furniture with the Sol family crest remained in the room, though Kuoji's tastes were also visible.  
Kuoji's own manservant had apparently retired for the night. Sialen raised her hand, lifting her candle higher as she stared at the carved canopy bed. The sheets were pulled back at one side, revealing a bed similar in design to her own.  
“Make yourself comfortable,” Kuoji offered. He took the candle from her and set it on the nightstand. She stared down at the bedding for a moment, pondering what she was about to do.  
She lifted her chin and climbed into the bed, sliding across to give Kuoji ample room. Keeping her back to him, she stared at the wall as she felt him climb in and pull the blankets up.  
“Am I so dull that you've already fallen asleep?” he asked with a chuckle. She rolled over to face him.  
“Is this better?” she quipped.  
“Much.” He kissed her forehead, cupping her face. Their robes placed enough layers between their bodies that if the Prince decided to let his hands wander, he would have a fair bit of work to do. He shifted around, and then she did, as they familiarized themselves with this situation. He reached out to run his fingers along her face and hair.  
“My princess,” he whispered, starting to lean over to kiss her. Suddenly, a warm, furry thing planted itself squarely between them after several quick steps across the blankets. Sialen bit back a grin as Caira settled down between them, kneading his paws and purring.  
“Oh, he doesn't like to spend the night alone,” Sialen said with a small chuckle.  
“Or we have a chaperone,” Kuoji replied dryly.

o0o

Kuoji's eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and he saw her smile faintly. He would be lying if he said that he hadn't been having some sexual thoughts since she'd climbed into his bed. It was impossible to not imagine how she might look, sprawled under him in pleasure, when the woman he'd desired for so long had taken his invitation to share warmth. And then that damn cat had to show up and break their reverie. Cats roamed the Palace, so he was used to their peculiarities, and he sighed good-naturedly as he shifted around, tempted to shoo the animal out.  
Sharing warmth truly was a sacred bond to the Atyamainese. You agreed to not rob or harm someone when they were sleeping. The arrangement generally meant that two people who were not faring too well on their own had a better chance of survival when working together, and what they was doing was for mutual benefit. It'd started in days nearly long gone, when hunters were away from home for days or even weeks, and got caught in blizzards. Likewise for families or neighbors who found fuel scarce. The island wasn't called Hardhaven for no reason, and the people who had survived and adapted to the harsh clime lived on the fringes of Atyamainese society, but were still respected by the other great clans.  
Like the Coronan and Yngsian hospitality rule, it was a primordial ordinance that demanded respect, and woe betide those who would violate these laws. He would respect that law, and not seek anything more from her for the night, but temptation was persistent. He smelled lilac and freesia. His imagination evoked her nude form awaiting, and welcoming, his attentions.  
“So, do you have any funny stories to share, my prince?” she asked.  
He blinked at this unexpected distraction, and silently thanked providence for this distraction.  
“As a matter of fact, I do...”  
They'd exchanged a couple of stories, and the night proceeded with ease. He'd fallen asleep to the quiet sound of her breathing, and stirred awake to feel something on his shoulder. He blinked and looked down to see that Sialen's head had somehow ended up against his shoulder while her arm was loosely thrown across his chest. The cat was now curled up just above their feet.  
Well. This certainly is a nice way to wake up, he mused with a smile. He shifted around, deciding to relax for a bit before he got up. Early morning light was filtering in through the drapes.  
As he moved, he became aware of one fact. He'd managed to distract himself from temptation the night before, but it'd invaded his dreams, leaving him with physical evidence of his desire for the woman next to him. He bit back a groan as he felt the weight of the blankets against his semu-rigid flesh. Sialen's scent certainly wasn't making the situation any less hard to control.  
Damnit. Perhaps sharing his bed hadn't been the best idea. He should have known better, given his long-burning desire for her and the proximity of her body, along with the privacy of their surroundings. Closing his eyes, he pondered his options. Part of him simply wanted to reach down – either to himself, or to her own body. Another was to wake her up and send her back to her room.  
He rolled to his side, gently stirring her before he kissed her cheek. “Good morning, my princess.”  
“Mmm.” She stretched out, the sleeve of her robe falling to reveal the inside of her pale wrist. Kuoji was instantly aware of a fresh stab of arousal.  
“The morning comes. You might wish to retire to your room if you want to seem the proper lady in front of your maidservants,” he said lightly. “And let me light the candle before you take it back to your room.”  
“Ah, you're so warm.” She leaned her head against his chest for several moments. “But you're right.” She slid from under the blankets and took the candle as he sat up in bed. With a snap of his fingers above the wick, a spark lit the candle. Their eyes met, and beneath the normal icy gaze, a passion for him remained banked, ever smoldering.  
With a quiet sigh, she slid from the bed, looking over her shoulder at him before she disappeared into her own room.

o0o

Being so close to Kuoji all night… and nothing had happened. The Way of the Light mandated that men and women sleep in separate quarters until marriage. This was because if one placed a man and woman in such close quarters, fornication and damnation was inevitable. Yet they'd kept themselves to friendly conversation, despite the supposed weakness of the flesh.  
Though it was not that she was not tempted, and she was certain he felt the same way. There was a certain huskiness to his tone this morning, with an undercurrent of urgency as he dismissed her. Logically, she knew he was right. Still, it had been so nice. And so warm.  
She'd felt safe. Oh yes, there had been that familiar ache of longing within her flesh. She had created several images of her and Kuoji, passionate fantasies sprung from the stories she'd heard from Hrotrud and other women, that she was certain the Prince would approve of if she'd described them to him.  
“Hmmph.” She went to her chest, deciding on her clothes for the day as she felt Caira wind around her legs.  
“Cheeky little bastard,” she said with a chuckle as she recalled his intrusion and the way he'd seemed to settle between Kuoji and herself with purpose. Caira simply looked up at her, blinking slowly before headbutting her calf, a clear indication that he wanted a cuddle.

o0o

Prince Kuoji and his companions traveled on horse along the road. As the new Lord of Golden Yngis, Obern Silorn needed to familiarize himself with the lay of the land and acquaintance himself with his new subjects. Depending on the nature of the trip, he would be accompanied by, or meet land surveyors, cartographers, or remaining Coronan landowners who had bent the knee to House Silorn. Sometimes Kuoji also accompanied him.  
Prince Eman might have been with them, but after Kuoji had decided to extend his stay here, the other prince had decided to go on forward. Apparently he couldn't wait to claim his promised Tekura bride. Oh well, Kuoji thought with a faint smile.  
As could be expected in this part of the continent, the late-autumn morning was nippy, but the near-cloudless day took away the worst of the cold.  
The tiny village sat nestled between two hills, most of its buildings on the western side of the stream that came down from the mountains. The two dozen or so families were led by a small lord of mixed descent who had been quick to surrender to the Yngsian forces in exchange for the safety of the collective. From the appearances of the village, these people had been rewarded for their cooperation.  
Life went on, and Kuoji was quick to notice people moving about calmly and casually, performing errands and chores with respectful but quick bows and obeisances to their superiors. All the tracts of farmland were harvested or fallow, and there was a light dusting of snow. In a distant field, Kuoji saw several horses milling about near a barn. The fur on their coats and manes was similar to most of the horses that could be found in Northern Yngis or Atyamai, thicker and coarser to help them through the rough winters. They were also of a thicker build than many typical Coronan horses, with wide shoulders and big hooves which served them well in helping their owners plow the often hard or rocky ground.  
His breath came out in a pale mist as Kuoji rode his horse at a slow canter alongside his cousin as they conversed, several men trailing after them. The settlement sat amidst a thick forest that embraced it from the north and much of the east and west. Further north were steeper and more treacherous mountains interspersed with taiga valleys and plains, much of them in the domain of White Yngis, before plunging into the ocean.  
The sound of chopping in the distance brought to mind a time where that had been a necessity for him. At the very least, chopping wood on a cold morning was a quick way to warm up. He'd had to borrow the axe from a burly neighbor, giving him several coins as collateral because the old man did not trust him on account of his half-Atyamainese heritage. What would they say now, if they saw him as the Prince of the nation they'd hated so much? Now he had servants to chop wood for him and his mother, or mine coal, or harvest and refine oil from various sources for lamps and fuel.  
Even now, after a decade of being the acknowledged eldest son of Emperor Imonje, and his heir, Kuoji still sometimes struggled with feelings and memories that lingered from his childhood.  
The cousins were welcomed to the mayor's house for nuncheon, sitting down to bear meat, root vegetables, and apple and wildberry pie.  
Through the afternoon, Kuoji saw nothing that should give him concern. The mayor did not seem to be the kind of person who abused his power, and the commoners appeared well-fed, and warmly-attired. There were some curious glances, but he'd seen no hostility.  
Yet the Prince of the Atyamai Empire could not shake off a feeling of foreboding. As a skilled mage, he could generally sense magic that was actively worked, such as charms, talismans, and the like. A Fire Mage could enchant a piece of coal so that it did not burn out, giving them an effective lighter for as long as they kept the charm active, and other Mages, especially those who shared the same element, could sense it when they walked into that person's house. There were no magical workings in or about the hamlet as far as he could sense except a few very minor ones, but there remained a dark cloud hovering around the edges of his consciousness.  
He voiced his concern to his cousin when he was able to have a private moment with him. Obern frowned thoughtfully as he took a swig of his beer.  
“I am not a mage, and it does not flow freely in our blood. I try to understand the workings of magic, but I have absolutely no sense for it. I've learned to trust Mages to advise me in projects beyond my abilities. I know you would not bring this up lightly.”  
If they had to flee, they could shelter in the fortified castle of Lord Snowbranch, who held much of the lands in this area. He'd quickly bended the knee to Yngis and been allowed to maintain his status.  
However, what if Snowbranch was the one behind this dark feeling? He could very well be a Coronan loyalist playing at submission to Yngis. He and Obern had a group of soldiers with them, but Lord Snowbranch could easily amass a number that could overwhelm them by sheer numbers.  
“It may be prudent for us to take our leave of this village now, and make haste to Goldenvale.” They spoke in whispers, and Obern nodded at Kuoji's words.  
“They do not appear overly anxious to keep us here, but that could be a ruse. Such a shame, Sara seemed very eager to share my bed tonight,” Obern said dryly, speaking of the twenty-year-old maiden who was one of the mayor's daughters. Though she was a bit rustic, she was still comely enough with wheat-blonde hair and a light scattering of freckles along her cheeks.  
“I am not sure her father would appreciate if you abused his hospitality,” Kuoji reminded him.  
“He would appreciate a grandchild with a wealthy sire,” Obern replied pragmatically. At the very least, no one could say that Lord Silorn did not take responsibility for all of his children. In Yngis, bastards of noblemen could still expect comfortable prospects. To a Yngsian, a child was a child, regardless of what side of the sheets it was conceived upon. In this situation, there was a high possibility that Obern's calculations regarding the maid and her father was actually correct. To each their own, Kuoji mused.  
“Never change,” he said with a small chuckle before he rose from his seat.

o0o

Sialen stared down at the glassy surface of the fountain water. The waxing moon hung low in the sky, having just cleared the walls that closed the courtyard in. Though it had been a sunny and relatively warm day, the cold had been quick to settle in this very late autumn evening.  
In less than two weeks, the Atyamainese would celebrate their New Years'. The Atyamainese viewed the longest night of the year as a time of contemplation and cleansing. The day before, there would be feasts and parties to usher out the old year, and then after the winter solstice, another celebration, to usher in the new. And in between, three days of quiet, with the solstice itself on the second day. People might write letters, pay visits, express grievances, make amends, or reach out to a long-lost one. The harvest was over, and in most parts of the Empire, there was less outside work to do in the winter because of the clime, which made it even more appropriate for the celebrations and meditation, and the traveling this would entail for some.  
The fact that the Atyamainese used the winter solstice to celebrate was another argument the Coronnans used against them. In Corona, the new year started on the summer solstice, the longest day of the year where the Heavenly Father had the most light to offer his children. The earth was warm and fertile, even in the colder regions of Corona, and it seemed only fitting that the turn of each year should be observed at a time that was obviously blessed by the Father himself.  
Yngsians celebrated their yearly turn in the spring, for it was the season of rebirth and renewal. Many Coronans would disdain things not endorsed by the Heavenly Father, but Sialen found sense in some of the differences that she saw in the Atyamainese or Yngsians when it was explained to her. Each season had meaning, and the Atyamainese or Yngsian interpretations seemed no less valid than the Coronan one.  
She rested her fingers on the chilly surface of the water. It rarely was this cold in the mild clime that comprised much of Corona. Her ladies-in-waiting had complained of the cold, but even though Sialen was aware of the frigid temperatures, it seemed to her that she wasn't as sensitive to it. The cold water bit into her fingers as she dipped them beneath its surface, but she went deeper, feeling the stillness of the water.  
She lifted her hand, touching her fingers to her cheek before her thoughts wandered to the man who had shared his warmth with her. Although she was far from a proper Coronan woman in following the Way of the Light, especially now, she did pray to the Mother for Kuoji's safety on his trip north.  
After performing her nightly routine, she curled up in bed with a ceramic warmer against her feet and Caira purring against her shoulder. It'd been several nights, and she found herself missing the Prince as much as ever. She cherished the things he said, and his meaningful gestures, gathering these memories to her bosom like precious jewels. Despite the reserve with which she generally regarded the world, having Kuoji's love made her almost painfully aware of how much emotion she was capable of.  
She imagined herself at his side as his consort, playing a meaningful role in the world. Kuoji would provide for her a comfortable and happy home, and should the gods decide to bless them with children, she did not doubt that they could have a happy future. There was no real reason to reject Kuoji's love – and in this life-affecting decision, her head and heart were in agreement.  
Yet there was a part of her that made her pause. Kuoji was the first man that she could see herself having a future with, but her avenues in life thus far had been limited. She would always be grateful to her childhood friend for freeing her from her old life, but she could not help but wonder about other options in her life. It seemed that nowadays, everybody expected her to eventually become Kuoji's consort, if not Empress. In Corona, marriage, motherhood, and matronhood had been expected of her, if she wasn't sent off to a convent.  
She didn't much like children, and did not find herself eager to beget them. She would be a stranger in a strange land, and wanted to explore more avenues before she decided where to settle into this brave new world.  
Unconsciousness seeped in, giving her reprieve from these thoughts. Jarring sounds penetrated the peace, and her eyelids fluttered open as she heard a shout. She lay there for a few moments before there was another shout and what sounded like a heavy blow. Instinctively, she scrambled out of bed, her feet sliding into embroidered, fur-lined slippers as she shook off the last vestiges of sleep.  
A sudden, high scream punctuated what Sialen was certain was the sounds of a struggle, muffled as they were by the walls that lay between her and whoever was making these noises. Her daggers were where she had left them, beneath her pillows, and she strapped one around her waist while securing the other one to her leg. The city was defended by a strong regiment of Yngsian soldiers, with Atyamainese complements, along with some of Kuoji and Obern's own men.  
Just as she was pulling on a robe, her maidservants burst into the room, and for a moment, she saw Hrotrud between the bodies of the younger women.  
“We must gather our defenses, and hide the little ones,” Hrotrud declared with brisk efficiency.  
“Grab some extra clothes, and any medicines you might have,” Sialen instructed her maids. Hrotrud nodded in approval. “The Dark Years have taught me to be well-prepared, so grab jewelry, coin, and sewing supplies. I hope it doesn't come down to that, but better to have it and not need it than need it and be without.”  
Sialen jerked open the leather carrying case that Kuoji had gifted her with, depositing her jewelry case and toiletries before quickly adding underwear and other smallclothes. These could be used as bandages in the worst situations, and Sialen wondered just what in the gods' name was going on. Who could be causing such a threat?  
Fortunately, the invaders had not made it to the nursery, where Hrotrud looked after the welfare and upbringing of Lord Silorn's younger children, as well as a couple of others. Two servants accompanied them, and an Atyamainese and two Yngsian guards were quick to find them and form a guard.  
“Beyond the corridor that leads to the nursery is a small staircase that leads to the cellar. But there is no way out from that,” Sialen whispered. This was an old residence, with several wings built onto the original structure over the centuries. This led to several passageways and rooms that were complete dead ends generally used for storage or servant quarters.  
Hrotrud nodded, grimacing. “When I brought the children here, I spent a good amount of time exploring this house. If it was going to be the home of my charges, I had to know it well.” The old woman glanced down the hallway, listening with Sialen to the sounds of a struggle. Several people were involved, and from the shouts, more were being drawn in. “Our best avenue of escape is outside, if we do not barricade ourselves.”  
“And what do you think we should do?” Faced with a decision that had the potential of a catastrophic outcome, Sialen could not help but be relieved there was an older, wiser person to defer to.  
“I don't know how many men there are outside, so it's hard to say. But we do not have the luxury of time to debate the finer points of each possibility.”  
An explosion met their ears, and at that, one of the servants spoke. “I think that came from the kitchen.”  
Sialen nodded in agreement. “From that general vicinity, at least.” The kitchens were at one end of the house, in its own separate wing, an ancient custom in Corona and Yngis alike, from earlier days when cooking was better done in open air rather than an enclosed room.  
As one of the guards approached the window, he gasped. “There's a huge fire coming up from the kitchen! I think it's the work of a Fire Mage.”  
It couldn't be a coincidence that this was happening while Kuoji and Lord Silorn were absent. For a fearful moment, the teachings of the Holy Book that had been rote for her since she learned how to read, roused within her consciousness. Was this the divine punishment that the Heavenly Father, according to many Coronans, was going to visit upon the Atyamainese? If this was happening here, what lay in wait for these two men as they made their trip northwards?  
No, she told herself sternly. Sometimes it was difficult to forget the things that were inculcated into Coronan girls and women on a regular basis. Regardless of the fairness that the Yngsians and Atyamainese tried to show, there were always going to be people angry about their new superiors. She could only hope that this situation could be easily dealt with, or she, Hrotrud, and the others would become tragic footnotes in history.

o0o

I hope you all enjoyed the romance in this chapter! :) I have an account on A03, for those who prefer that site to this, I am updating there with Moonshadows and other current projects. My username there is also CultOfStrawberry. I will update chapters to both sites as the story goes on.  
Thanks for all your feedback and support!


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